


If I Should Dust Before I Wake

by SpuffyCarrie



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Horror, Complete, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fanged Four, Good versus Evil, Human/Vampire Relationship, Loss of Virginity, Miscarriage, Past Domestic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-04-24 15:17:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 117,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14358168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpuffyCarrie/pseuds/SpuffyCarrie
Summary: ‘I pray the lord my soul to take,’‘Hush little baby, don't say a wordAnd never mind that noise you heardIt's just the beasts under your bedIn your closet, in your head’Enter Sandman, Metallica.Buffy moves into an old, desolate, mansion with her mother but it soon seems they are not alone, something evil resides alongside them, trapped within the abandoned house, moving within its walls and whispering its secrets.Eventually, Buffy comes face to face with the creature and comes to understand why it is imprisoned there. This knowledge puts eighteen-year-old, human, Buffy in a dangerous situation as she begins to learn about a world she never knew existed and fight against an evil she has no chance of defeating.Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.





	1. Chapter 1

[](https://imgur.com/uJrRbOU)

**The Year 1900**

“Don’t do this, you bastard!” The elder vampire heard screamed from the house as he pulled the door to the jet black carriage closed outside the mansion.

His brunette travelling companion lay her head in his lap and whimpered, her full trust placed in the hands of a brutal killer, her Sire.

“Hush now, darlin’, you’re safe with daddy, I won’t ever let the idiot Childe hurt you again, the boy will probably dust without you in a few weeks. What a pretty thought that is, hmm?” The dark-haired vampire soothed his charges long dark locks before holding her head and grinding his crotch against her face lustily as he leered at the half mad creature.

The one other riding in the carriage, a beautiful blonde, rolled her eyes and stared out of the window, fully aware of the sinful nature of her consort and expressing mild irritation at his actions.

The desolate moorland careened away in the darkness, thick fog and frightened animal shrieks spooking the horses as they raced into the distance. Still, the steeds steamed ahead, whipped by the driver into submission.

…

They had left him far behind and he could only look on from inside the mansion as the carriage lantern moved further away before it flickered out completely, leaving him hopeless and alone in the gloom.

He picked up an unlit oil lamp from the table and threw it through the arched window, sending fragments of glass and oil onto the ornate Victorian rug as he roared his frustration.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

**Present Day – Yorkshire, England**

Fiddling with the radio, she finally found a channel which played something remotely modern through the static, before losing the signal again.

“Honey, we’re out of range up here on the moor and that white noise is giving me a headache.” Joyce said, swiping her daughters hand aside and turning the tuner to the off position.

Buffy sat back with a harrumph and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t know why you had to move us here in the first place, mom, it’s, like, the middle of nowhere, I haven’t seen a house for miles.” Buffy pouted.

The windshield wipers squeaked back and forth, attempting to hold back the rain which lashed the Yorkshire Dales.

Her mom renovated old houses and mansions for a studio in Hollywood, making them fit for filming Gothic Horror movies and atmospheric costume dramas. Her new project was to create a setting for an adaptation of Emily Brontë's, Wuthering heights, and she had found the perfect run down mansion to renovate.  J.L. Summers was the best in her field but being the best meant a lot of travel for them both, as well as Buffy changing schools frequently. Instead of the teen grasping at the chances she was given to travel the world with her mom and go to school in different countries, meeting new people and embracing their cultures, Buffy didn’t see their constant moves as an opportunity, more rather a chore to be whined about. She felt like an Army brat. It was a given that moving was always inconvenient but she would still rather follow her mom across the world than stay with her dad and his newest bimbo girlfriend, who was called Misty and was only five years Buffy’s senior.

Before this move she had finally graduated High School and her mom had asked her whether she wanted to go to college back in California or come with her to the back of beyond, in the north of England. Of course, she jumped at the chance for the latter option, leaving all her friends and her boyfriend as it seemed like such a better alternative than spending the summer before college in the sunshine, enjoying time off at the beach and doing nothing, Buffy thought sardonically. The truth was, she knew she would really miss her mom if she stayed in Cali. and she wasn’t ready for her mom not to be there. If her mom went away, then the only home she’d ever known went with her and she wasn’t ready to stand on her own two feet, not just yet.

“Buffy.” Joyce said, her warning tone sounded exasperated as the elder Summers woman wondered why every trip had to begin in this way. She thought her daughter had begun to grow up, especially when she agreed to come on this trip of her own accord and to defer college for a year while she decided what she wanted to do with her life. Joyce blamed herself, she had led a hippy-like, nomadic lifestyle which had ruined her first marriage but she genuinely thought introducing her daughter to a self-reliant lifestyle would be the making of her. Kids these days were too entitled and almost none ever got to see the world in the way her daughter had. “Why, I’m so eager to have this conversation once again with you.” Joyce said sternly, “Might I remind you, light of my life, fruit of my loins, that you agreed to come this time. I gave you the option of college in Cali, you could’ve stayed in dorms or with your father.”

Buffy wriggled her nose in distaste, “Fruit of my…Eww, mom.” She complained, looking up as the pelting rain cleared and they headed down a rocky outcrop, the road diving by forty-five degrees as the valley rose beside them, its alternating hues of all shades of green mingled in with lilacs, plums and scattered golds of wild heather, crossing large expanses as craggy rocks met a stormy, steel grey skyline. She supposed it was pretty in its own way, but the way it extended as far as the eye could see made her feel even more alone. The nearest town was thirty miles away and she wondered how she was ever going to meet anyone. Her thoughts flittered back to Josh, the guy she’d been seeing back in California. It wasn’t ever going to be the type of impassioned romance she read about in books but it was comfortable and, well, nice. If she was honest, it hadn’t ripped her heart out to leave him but she would miss him all the same.

A house grew from a dot on the distant landscape and became larger as they drove further down the hill into the valley. Buffy ignored her mom as she muttered something about being glad they’d hired a Land rover as she navigated the drop on the steep hill.

It began to rain again as they passed foreboding, rusted, wrought iron, arched gates and pulled into the long gravel drive, its dirty stone had seen better days, as had the overgrown garden at the front of the house, its grass grew a few feet high and its trees and bushes dense and overrun.

A roll of thunder swept over the valley as they pulled up to the front of the house, its sweeping archways battered by the rain and its local Yorkshire stone masonry dampened from light tans and mottled russets, to dingy bronze and burnt coffee, its lime mortar in desperate need of re-pointing.

Joyce ran from the Land rover with a newspaper shielding her head, holding a bunch of antique and rusty keys, finally shaking herself off with a grin as the rain stopped as suddenly as it had started. After some jiggling of the keys and turning of the door handle, Joyce managed to free it and waved to Buffy with the same animated smile she got when she was enthusiastic about a project and couldn’t wait to get started.

Buffy shielded her eyes as blinding sunshine poured over the rugged landscape and hopped out of the Land rover, heading to grab some bags from the trunk.

The sun glinted against one of the higher panes of glass, Buffy noted they were filthy and guessed she would be the one stuck with the job of cleaning them, as was her mom’s way, nothing was ever free in Buffy’s life, including her allowance. She tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear and caught a flicker of movement from one of the upper windows in her peripheral vision. She stared at the window in question but only saw the drapes swaying. Experience said there were probably birds or bats up there, she shivered, she didn’t like flying critters.

Hauling her bags onto her back she headed inside to see what they were up against this time.

…….

“Looks like we’ve got company again.” The voice muttered to no-one chuckling maniacally as no-one had lived there for thirty years. “They won’t stay, they never stay….” It whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, it seems some readers are intrigued to find out why Spike was left behind and what he did to hurt Dru. All will be revealed as we move along.  
> Joyce and Buffy are getting to know the house in this chapter and we find out a little more about its current resident.  
> Don't forget to like if you're with me on this story, it really feeds the muse, I love to feel the love!

The front bell rang out, its jingle shattering the silence of the house as Buffy balanced her broom against a panelled wood wall. She had been clearing the crisp leaves from the hallway. For a house which hadn’t been used in so long, she thought it sure had a lot of leaves and debris covering its dark wood, parquet floors. She knew, from previous projects, that the floors were an original feature and needed to be treated with care, so had carefully chosen a soft brush.

Joyce called from the kitchen, where she was on her hands and knee’s scrubbing the floor tiles, a more modern addition but always her mother’s first port of call on arrival, to get them a working kitchen. “Buffy, that’s probably Piper, the new housekeeper, can you let her in?”

“Sure mom,” She sighed. Another part of working on a new project was all the new faces she’d need to get to know, labourers, carpenters, decorators, gardeners and generally an architect type who may come around occasionally. Her home was never her own.

“Hi, you must be Buffy? I’m Piper.” The young woman said kindly as she raised a hand in greeting.

Buffy looked the new girl over. She was young for a housekeeper, she thought, but she was relieved the newcomer was more her own age and not some smelly, old guy who barked orders at her. Piper wore jeans and combat boots, with a huge grey hooded sweater, its hood pulled over a mass of brunette curls. Her genuine smile met her large hazel eyes. “I’m sorry about the gear,” She said in a thick Yorkshire accent as she looked down over her own outfit and pushed her hands deeper into her jeans pockets, somewhat nervously. “Your mum said to dress in something I wouldn’t want ruined at first.”

“God, yeah, she’s totally right, I never have a thing to wear that doesn’t have paint or some kinda dirt on it, “Buffy smiled back, “Come on in, I’m sure mom will be pleased to meet you.” She said holding her arm out and ushering Piper into the kitchen to meet her mom.

The front door flew wide again with a gust of wind and blew Buffy’s carefully arranged pile of leaves all over the floor again. “Dammit!” she cursed as she heaved the door closed against what felt like a tornado, cursing herself for not closing it properly.

She turned and looked at the mess a little breathlessly and a creak at the top of the spiral staircase caught her attention, a few leaves floated down from above as any last sign of the torrent of air abated. From the corner of her eye, she could’ve sworn she saw a shadow cross the wooden rail above.

Blinking rapidly, she stared into the gloom for a moment before her mother called her from the kitchen. Looking up once more, her brow furrowed and she strained to hear any further movement. “Don’t be stupid, Buffy, there’s nothing there.” She told herself convincingly, these old houses were always creaking and settling, she’d been around them all her life. She must’ve forgotten that during the last year in California, staying in a more modern home.

She headed into the kitchen where Piper has settled in quickly and was making tea.

“Oh, Buffy,” Her mom said, putting her arm around her daughter’s shoulder, “This is Piper and she’s making us real, British tea and telling me a what she knows about the house.”

“Yorkshire tea, Buffy, best in the world.” Piper winked as she washed some ancient looking crockery clean, she’d found in the cupboard.

Buffy’s mom was always insistent that she found out everything there was to know about a new project, she said it helped her find original features and little gems she may know have known about. She called it getting to know the house and she was forever asking Buffy to look out for concealed doors or hollow walls which may have something magical behind them.

“Yeah, I was just saying to your mum, no one’s lived here since the eighties, some family with young teens lived here for about a year but they left suddenly, citing a family emergency back in Ireland. They just never came back. There was a rumour that one of the kids got sick, the boy I think, severe anaemia or something and the doctors could never understand why. Before that, the last time it was occupied was back in the sixties when the old lady who grew up here died, her family had been here since the early nineteen-hundreds. The family kept themselves to themselves and when old Mrs. Beaumont died so did the family name. Of course, I’m only telling you what old Mr. Farmer told me at the Cock an’ Bottle in the town, he’s probably the oldest living resident hereabouts, in his eighties, he is, but he still has a pint of milk stout every day. He was the gardener here once, years back.” She chuckled, pouring them each a china cup of tea.

The first thing Buffy had noticed about Piper immediately, was that she didn’t stop talking. The second, that she hardly had a clue what she was talking about, what was a cockanbottle? Some sort of weird store? She stared at the cup and saucer, wondering how she would get her finger in the tiny handle and not spill it down herself in a clumsy manner. Did you hold the saucer? Or just lift the cup? She watched her mom lift the cup and saucer into her hand and followed suit.

“That is just so interesting, Piper, isn’t it interesting, Buffy? It’s so nice to hear about the place.” Joyce said, attempting to involve her daughter in the conversation.

The women chattered for a moment and Buffy checked her cell again. Still no service, she couldn’t wait for the Wi-Fi to be connected. Mom said she’d have to wait until Thursday at the earliest. How could she possibly wait until then to check her e-mail or even read Cosmo online. She might actually cry.

“Right, let’s get back to it.” Joyce said, rising to rinse the cups in the sink. She turned on the tap and the pipes began to bang and clatter before some nasty copper coloured water spluttered through, almost blood red in hue. “Oh dear, I don’t understand, the water was fine when I filled the kettle before.”

Buffy wrinkled her nose, she desperately needed a bath after travelling but it wasn’t looking very likely with water that colour.

“Oh, that’ll be the old pipes, Mrs. S, I’ll run it through and see if we can get something which doesn’t resemble muddy water. “Piper offered.

“You are a godsend, Piper. Once you’ve done that, if you could finish up in the kitchen, at least them we’ll have a hope in hell of getting a half decent meal this evening.” She laughed and patted Pipers shoulder. “Buffy, shall we do the tour? See what other horrors await us? Spiders in the bathroom, creepy crawlies making their home in under the rugs?” Joyce snickered as her daughter’s face was a picture.

“Mom, that’s no fair! You know I hate those things!” She cried, following her mother up to the second floor.

Joyce grinned, she loved how her daughters face scrunched up when she wasn’t impressed and couldn’t help but rib her lovingly. “OK, honey, you know the drill, I’ll start at the East Wing, you at the West and we’ll meet in the middle with our findings?”

“Yeah, I know the drill, mom, I’m not five anymore.”

Joyce cupped Buffy’s face fondly, “No, you most certainly are not. Have fun.” She said as she bustled off happily into the gloom.

Buffy began her investigation of the house by pulling open the drapes on a large, stained glass window at the top of the stairwell, happy there weren’t any creepy crawlies and pleased with the light it let in over the double staircase leading to the lower floor. She could see the antique paintings which lined the walls better now, old guys, mainly with moustaches and weird hats. Dust motes floated in the coloured sunlight and a prism of predominantly blue hues, settled over her skin. She threw her head back and allowed the streaming sun to warm her, grateful for its heat in the cold house. Perhaps this place wouldn’t turn out to be too bad after all.

……..

He moved silently through the attic space to his well-used gap in the floor, above the chandelier in the main entryway. From this vantage point, he could see what went on below and, often if he waited long enough, a rat would forget he was there and scuttle past, unaware it was about to meet its doom.

Scratching at his long, matted and lank hair, he crouched above the small crack and rolled his clawed fingers anxiously while awaiting his first look at the new tenants. First there had been two women, one older, one younger, both flaxen haired but from above he couldn’t see their faces. Another woman had arrived sometime later and he had watched as a young woman heaved the door shut from the wind, her pile of freshly swept leaves blowing into the air. Curiosity getting the better of him, he had risked stealing down the steps from the attic to its door on the second floor but had fled as she almost caught him on the landing.

“Taking chances, taking chances, they must not see, not yet, the time is not right.” He muttered to himself.

He peered below as the younger woman opened the drapes on the stairwell and let in the dreaded light. He clenched his fists, “No, they must not let in the light!” he spat through gritted teeth, his voice barely audible.

Leaning forward, he wanted to look at her face as she basked in sunlight below, he lost his footing for a moment and put out a hand to save himself, this caused the support on the large crystal light to creak. He stopped dead, as he did best and watched as the girl below glanced above with a start. She was clearly beautiful, her green eyes shimmered in the light, the gemstones of the chandelier scattering her from top to toe in twinkling light. He could hear her heart racing and it made his mouth water.

…..

Buffy wasn’t sure if she’d heard a thump above the staircase but it had startled her. She couldn’t shake off the feeling of being watched. The fine hairs on the nape of her neck rose, causing a shudder to rush down her spine. It must be mom up there, she tried to convince herself, rushing off along the corridor. For some reason, she wasn’t quite sure she believed herself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are beginning to get a little terrifying in this chapter as the current occupants of the house make themselves known.  
> If you aren't a fan of things that go bump in the night, you may want to grab a pillow to hide behind...

Buffy pushed open the first door on the right side of the corridor, holding back just in case she might be attacked by a current resident. Experience had taught her that birds often nested in these old houses and were likely to fly right at you when you opened a door which had been closed for years.

Hearing nothing, she peered tentatively inside and was pleasantly surprised. The room was much as it had been left, with thick layers of dust and grimy net curtains but in good order, its plain comforter and pillows greyed with age. The room was mainly bare apart from a bedroom suite but with no other defining features apart from a Victorian wrought iron fireplace with a floral picture in a faded gilt frame above, its once lustrous poppies aged by the sun. She guessed she might be in the guest wing and, that being the case, it was likely most of the rooms along this passageway would be similar.  The air was heavy and thick within the room, undisturbed for at least thirty years, if what Piper had been told was true.

There were no closets in these old houses, only wardrobes and chests of drawers. She moved to the window and opened it, as they always did when they arrived, allowing some air to circulate before closing them again on their way back around.

Buffy moved on to the next room, using the same technique. This time she wasn’t so lucky, she had to shoulder the door open as it had swollen shut due to the damp weather and she heard a squawk and a flutter of wings from within. This usually indicated there was an open window or a bird had fallen through the chimney breast and was trapped in the room. The lack of free-flowing breeze indicated the latter as she heaved the door open, just enough to peek inside. Bird droppings littered the room, and its angry inhabitant flew from one perch to another in annoyance.

“OK, look, be nice and I’ll set you free, peck me and all bets are off, capeesh?” She said out loud, moving into the room in tip-toes. This was the part she hated when they moved in, the chance of attack by critters, but she would never call her mom, she was far too stubborn to ask for help.

She headed for the window in a flash and she heard the crow’s cries become more agitated, it swooped over her head once, catching a lock of her hair in its beak as she banged the window with a flat palm, catching her thumb on a sharp piece of rust on the handle as she flailed at the torn netting with the other. The dust caused her to sneeze and close her eyes. Her attacker was startled by the sudden noise and dived again, its beak clipping the back of her hand. It broke the skin, causing a gash which really hurt, and she had to steel herself to keep pushing until the window eventually slammed open.

“Shit!” she hissed as the large bird’s feathers flapped against her face upon its exit. She expected another attack, but it flew to freedom and left her nursing her bloodied hand. She cursed again as blood dripped the floor. “Frickin’ birds!” She exclaimed, placing one hand over the cut, attempting to stem the flow. She investigated the small cut on her thumb, which oozed a few drops of blood and hurt more than her bigger wound, the skin around it red and angry.  She was glad her mom had made her have her Tetanus booster shot before they arrived and looked around the room for some way of stemming the blood.

In the silence of the room she heard a rustling behind the wall. She sighed, was there a nest above the grate? Perhaps the bird hadn’t been trapped? Maybe it had been feeding its young? She dropped to the floor with a wince and peered inside, her eyes attempting to adjust to the light as she reached inside. Birds’ nests were always a pain in the ass, there could be babies inside and they might be left to die by the mother bird once disturbed.

Buffy felt the throb in her hand. Her mom would be upset if she ruined any feature floors with blood, so she ripped the bottom from her old tee and bound it, leaving her stomach exposed to the chill of the Yorkshire air, but giving her some time before she had to head to the kitchen for her mother’s medical kit.

She wriggled forward on her bottom, what was left of her tee rising and exposing the lace of her black lace bra as she lay across the grate and looked as far up inside as her position would allow, before raising her good arm and reaching inside.

Feeling nothing apart from brick, she patted the rough insides, finding nothing but soot created by the fires in the grate. She knocked a lump of old dirt, and it landed on her shoulder. “Crap!” she said as she began to withdraw her hand.

Out of nowhere she felt something grasp her hand. A hand! It was someone’s icy, cold hand! Her mind screeched.

“What? W-What? Nooo!” she shrieked, inanely, as she felt frigid fingers clasp her wrist, its grip unrelenting. She grabbed the edge of the wall with her injured hand, feeling pain shoot up her arm as she clasped the rough stone, digging her nails in to hold her steady. Her heart almost stopped in fear as she battled to escape. She felt a sharp tug, once, then again as whatever was inside attempted to pull her up. Terrified she heard voices whispering, babbling incoherently, she couldn’t hear what they were saying but they spoke urgently as she struggled. In a moment of sudden clarity, she saw the grimy fireside companion set beside her. Grasping the iron poker, she threw herself back into the grate and began stabbing with everything she had, yelling for her mom and spearing above.

“Moooom! Mom, mommy!!”

….

Joyce heard a shriek and sprinted along the corridor, something in the pit of her stomach compelled her to get to her daughter immediately. She stopped for a moment as she thought she heard something creaking at speed above her, small, telling, pieces of plaster dropping to the floor as something overhead scampered frenziedly, thumps reverberated above her head. She didn’t have time to wonder what it could be.

Buffy screamed again and her heart almost stopped as she ran.

“Buffy, oh, my baby! Buffy!” she shrieked as she passed Piper who had heard the screams and ran like hell up the stairs.

Joyce’s stomach clenched as she heard nothing more, “Buffy! Baby, where are you?” she cried, darting into one open room, finding nothing and running on to the next.

She rushed through the door and found her daughter passed out before the fire place, bleeding with a fire iron piercing her forearm.

“Buffy! Baby, Oh, god! Piper, call nine-one-one!”

A wide-eyed Piper obeyed and called the UK number, nine-nine-nine.

….

He loitered above the room, sensing tangible panic below, his demon at the fore and claws piercing his palms. He had stupidly announced his presence to the older blonde by running the length of the attic above her when he heard the younger scream.

Watching through a tiny gap the ceiling he could see the girl’s petrified face as her horrified mother barked urgent orders to the dark-haired girl with her.

His bloodlust rose to infinite proportions as he took in the scent of human blood for the first time in thirty years. His demon begged him to tear through the plaster, grasp her to him and sate his thirst, to take them all. His craving for the girl’s lifegiving fluid was nothing compared to the desire to covet her the others he subsisted with had, in a few short days they had already attempted to take her.

“They must leave, they never stay, never stay, never stay.” He repeated over and over as he scarpered back to his room.

……

Joyce sat on the edge of Buffy’s bed, helping her eat some chicken broth and stroking her head. Buffy recovered from her injury following an overnight stay in hospital and a fair few stiches. Her arm and hand were heavily bandaged and the doctors had ordered she rested for a few days on her return home.

In the meantime, Piper had cleaned and set up a room in the family wing for Buffy, next to the room her mother had chosen as her own. The rooms had an interconnecting door and had once been a nursery with an adjoining room for the nanny.

Buffy had been unsettled when they arrived at the hospital and had been given a sedative, her mom had been given further medication in case she became upset again during her recuperation, but the medical professionals felt she was ready to go home, there was no need to keep her there unnecessarily.

“Honey, we haven’t had the chance to talk about what happened yesterday. I was so worried about you. I couldn’t understand how you’d manged to do that to yourself, you’ve always been so careful on our projects.”

Buffy peered at her mom in the low evening light, and Joyce moved to switch on the antique glass bedside lamp which cast a pink glow over the room, its chintzy crystal fringing glittering. Buffy stared at it for a few moments before looking back to her mom.

“I-I don’t really know what happened, mom. First the bird attacked me…and then I heard a noise behind the chimney breast, I-I thought it was some baby birds, so I put my hand up inside and I-it got caught. All I remember is using the fire iron to try and lever myself free, I must’ve panicked and stabbed myself by accident,” she said tearfully.

Truthfully, Buffy couldn’t be one-hundred-percent sure what she’d seen or felt in that room and she sure wasn’t going to bother her mom with silly thoughts of ghosts and ghouls hiding behind fireplaces. She had just panicked when her arm was trapped, there, that was enough of an explanation. She didn’t want to think about it anymore.

“OK, sweetie. I think we’ll close up that fireplace, just until the builders come in, then perhaps they can work out what got you all caught up.” Joyce said, stroking her daughters hand, “You know, I can call off my buying trip if you need me here.” Joyce said, she planned to go to London for materials the next day.

“No, mom, I’ll be fine. Piper will be here and I’ll just be resting anyway.” Buffy said softly.

“Piper goes home at night, are you sure you’ll be OK?” Joyce tested again.

“Mom, I promise, it’s only for a couple of nights, I’m not a child, I can take care of myself.”

“Ok, baby. You get some rest and I’ll check in on you later.”

Buffy felt her mom place a motherly kiss on her forehead and she closed the door to with an uncertain smile. Easing herself up on her elbows, she took in her surroundings. The room had been aired but there was still an underlying smell of mildew which would take weeks to get rid of. Thankfully, any creepy Victorian toys had long gone but there was an old-fashioned rocking horse in one corner. It wasn’t as sinister in appearance as some she’d seen. She guessed perhaps the last resident of the room may have been one of the small children who’d lived in the house back in the eighties.

Mom and Piper had placed some of Buffy’s own things around the room, photos in brightly coloured frames and two collages her friends had made her before she left California adorned the walls, their faces smiling down on her. Her stuffed pig, Mr. Gordo, had been placed on the mantel next to some jewelled knick-knack boxes she’d collected from all over the world. This seemed to be the one room where there was a closet built in, and she guessed this may have originally been for the nanny’s use. The fireplace in this room had been closed off and she wondered whether this was the reason her mother had chosen the room for her, her mom was thoughtful like that.

Feeling a little queasy she eased herself out of bed and headed to look inside the closet, heaving it open with her good hand. It was empty part from dust motes and a spider at the back. Shuddering, she closed it again tightly and looked inside the wardrobe, finding her clothes hanging inside and a distinct whiff of mothballs.

Wrinkling her nose, she closed the door, grabbed Mr. Gordo and snuggled back into bed, happy she was in for no surprises in the night. With the help of the remnants of the sedative she drifted into a fitful, dream filled, sleep.

….

He had hardly moved from the attic since the incident in the guest wing, only watching as the girl was taken away in an ambulance and observing her return with her mother the following day through a small hole he had scratched in the black paint of the tiny, port hole, garret window.

The others had whispered to him that night, hissing and lecturing him on his interference, warning him to stay away from the girl or face their wrath.

The vampire knew they would find it hard to hurt him, usually, but, when they’d drawn on the life-force within the house in the past, they had been known to manage to move heavy items, touch and throw things in an almost corporeal way. In the past, they had threatened to find a way to stake him in his sleep if he interfered in their plans.

Quiet for years, they had been awakened by the humans entering the house, the people’s inner light attracting them like moths to a flame, their spectral presence desperate to feast on the soulful energy the humans exuded.

They had been there from the beginning, and he was trapped alongside them in his own personal hell.

The voices had quietened for the moment and let him be. He tied his long hair into a tail with a piece of antique ribbon and changed into some faded black jeans and a moth eaten tee left by the father of the house some thirty years previously, before stealing, barefooted, down the attic staircase.

….

He heard her heartrate rise from her gentle slumber to a galloping thump as he crept along the corridor to her room, avoiding the floorboards he knew creaked and which may give away his presence. Hearing her mother’s soft snores from the room connecting to the girls, he pushed the door open, stiffening as it groaned lightly.

He stopped dead as he heard the girl sobbing in her sleep.

‘No, no, please don’t!” The girl muttered, fisting the sheets, her face covered in a sheen of sweat.  Placing a grubby, cool palm on her forehead, he hushed her, his voice muted. She stilled, her breath evening out as she fell back into a dreamless sleep.

Staring around the room, he took in the pure scent of her. It made his fangs itch but he was well past the need for human blood, having existed on vermin for so long, and the desire to drain her he’d first felt on her arrival was overtaken by a desire to protect her and the other women from the evils which dwelled within this house. He had to find a way to make the women leave.

He tentatively ran his thumb over the tears on her cheek and lifted his thumb to his lips, savouring her salty sweetness. She tasted like sunshine after a summer shower, it made his stomach clench with want.

A light breeze blew across the room and the girl shifted.

He fisted his hands before rubbing at his hair crazily. “They must go, they cannot stay, they mustn’t stay!” He hissed, turning for the door.

“Hello? Is someone there?” He heard her sweet voice shrill in the silence.

Stealthy as he was, he’d woken her.

He hesitated outside her doorway, his chest rising and falling with unneeded breath, before moving as fast as possible back to his hide-out.

….

She woke sometime in the night to see the door to her bedroom wide open, it was only ajar when she drifted off. She dropped her feet to the floor and ran to close the door. Her heart pounded and her whole body shivered as that dreadful feeling she was being watched overcame her again.

Pulling the comforter over her head and in the suffocating heat underneath the bed covers, it took her almost an hour to get back to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

He tried to concentrate on a favourite book of poetry for the fourth time. In one hundred years, he had read almost every leather-bound book in the mansions library, well, anything he thought was worth the effort.

The one godsend in his hovel of a room was his only link with the outside world, a wind-up radio which had been left in the house in the sixties, it’s static speech and music was so low it would be barely audible to humans but it was a lifeline to a desperate vampire. He also had a small black and white TV but was only ever able to use that when humans resided in the house. With people came electricity and the soap opera’s he was so ridiculously engrossed in. Being able to watch again over the past few days, he realised TV had changed so much in thirty years, he was astounded. Even watching in black and white he could see special effects had moved on so much they looked almost real, he’d placed his hand on the screen and felt like he might touch the face of a resident on EastEnders. He’d seen the first episodes before…before…back into the eighties, around the time the last residents had left. People in the world had changed so much, their language, the issues of the modern day, things which had once been taboo were mentioned and it made him wonder if the world had descended into the rings of hell during his lengthy absence.

Human residents also brought water and he hadn’t had a real shower in thirty years. He hadn’t really had the inclination to wash, gathering water would’ve involved leaving the house and he couldn’t venture through any threshold. He’d tried time and time again at the beginning but eventually gave up and resigned himself to his fate when he realised none of his family were coming back for him.

He lifted his head as he heard the Land rover start up in the distance and hopped up to the tiny window to see all three women getting into the vehicle. Now was his chance to take advantage of them being here.

….

“Buffy, I agreed with you coming to see me off at the train station but no funny business, you go straight home with Piper and rest.” Joyce said firmly.

“Oh, dammit!” Buffy yelped. “Mom, can we go back? I’ve forgotten my cell, I was hoping to get a signal in town. Please mom, we’ve been here forever and I couldn’t even tell Josh we got here OK.” She pouted, playing on her mom’s good mood.

“Piper, please tell me what I ever did to have such a pain as a daughter?” Joyce said, considering the rear view in exasperation. The brunette strapped in the back shrugged and chuckled in reply. She turned the car around and headed back down the gravel path towards the house.

….

Oh, fuck, this was blissful, he thought as he groaned in pleasure, warm water cascading over his cold and muscular body. His mind almost came back to reality as he felt more alive than he had in years.

He took a handful of vanilla scented shampoo and set about lathering up his grimy and tangled hair. The shampoo smelled like _her_ , like the exquisite blonde he’d risked his neck to touch last night. Rinsing his hair, he began soaping his chest, hands moving in wide circles over his body, using a pink washcloth he’d found next to the sink. He didn’t have much time so he finished up quickly, turning the shower off and cocking his head, his stomach crawling with anxiety as he heard movement within the house. It wouldn’t do to be caught by someone, not yet, not before he’d formed a real plan to scare the women away. He forced himself to move as the footsteps came closer, grabbing a pink, fluffy towel, he set about drying himself roughly and rapidly. If he hadn’t needed to dry off so quickly he thought the sensation of such female scented and downy material would’ve felt heavenly against his skin. The luxury of taking care of himself reminded him of being home as a human child all those years ago, when he was wrapped securely in his mother’s arms.

_“Look at you, William, all handsome with your pink cheeks and sweet damp curls! You are my only boy, the light of my life.”_

In his mind’s eye, a small boy dressed in pure white, flannel pyjamas, watched his mother speak, her face soft with love as she brushed away a stray tear from her cheek. _“Hop up into bed, darling, and mother will finish reading, The Tinderbox, as a treat.”_

He found himself living in the past nowadays, his memories better than just existing. He had time, all he had was time. He stooped and picked up his clothes before pushing a panel. It clicked to reveal a small, hidden door which led to a secret passageway…

….

Buffy searched the ground floor, she couldn’t remember where she’d left her cell but it wasn’t downstairs. Rushing up the stairs she headed toward her room and stopped outside the family bathroom, fear creeping into her belly as she heard a creak from within.

Drip…drip…drip…

The sound of water hitting the floor was almost ear-splitting as she cringed with dread.

“Hello?” She ventured, from outside, placing her hand on the door handle and then taking it off, her mind going into overdrive.

Drip…Drip…

Hearing no further movement, she rolled her eyes. “Buffy, you’re just being stupid,” she informed herself, before heading off to her room.

Finding her cell in her bedroom, she passed the bathroom again and caught the low sound of shuffling inside. Again, her hand strayed to the handle and she began to turn it slowly before gaining some mettle and flinging it open.

The room was empty but cloudy with steam. She shuddered, feeling a cold breeze whipping over her body. A pile of black fabric on the floor caught her eye. She took a step forward and scooped up a soiled, black tee from the damp floor, fingering the holes in it as she threw it into the waste bin in the corner in disgust, perhaps her mom had been using it as a rag?

She heard a soft mutter and her hackles rose. She squeezed her eyes shut and left the room, closing the door behind her and running away, telling herself she wouldn’t, couldn’t, look back. In her haste to get back to her mom she’d failed to notice what had been written in condensation on the bathroom mirror.

‘ _Leave or Die’_

_……………………………………………………………………………………………._

**1900**

“Leave me be!” She shrieked, her hands rubbing frantically at her brunette locks, ruining the elegant up do he’d spent an hour pinning in place.

“Dru, pet, please, tell me what I’ve done,” He begged.

“You want her! You want only the sunshine! But she won’t have you, she won’t want such a sad doggy. She only knows the light! Only lives her life out there!” She spat venomously as she pointed to the window of their bedroom, its heavy, blood red drapes, shielding them from the hot and high summer sun.

Desperate to appease her, he tried to get through to his sire, the woman who was his everything. It was a thankless task and he knew it.

Things had been so much fun with her in the beginning, the group spending time together, wiping out the local population and shagging each other senseless around their bodies. But then his Drusilla had gone from amusingly barmy to preposterous and illogical, her sanity lost to him. Her madness had built and built over weeks as she told him he would leave her, he would be drawn away from her by some person she called ‘The Sunshine’. She spent whole nights screaming in terror, until Liam came for her at dawn and took her into bed with he and Darla in the early hours.

“Sun…? Sweetest one, I don’t want anyone but you! You’re losin’ your soddin’ mind if you think I want anyone else!” he beseeched, using his current mixture of upper and lower class English as he dropped to his knees before her, clutching at her skirts. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted, my dark princess, my only!”

“My William,” She growled, her eyes darkening into slits, “You fool yourself, but you cannot fool me! I will not be yours unless I can live in the sunlight!” She said, her clawed hands ripping his from her wide, black silken skirts and storming to the arched window, “I cannot be yours unless the sun’s rays burn me! I will stay in the dark and daddy will love me always!” She screeched as she ripped the drapes open, the light causing her skin to crack and peel as Spike launched himself at her, wrestling her to the safety of the shadows.

He held her in his arms, smoke rising above them as he muttered his urgent apologies.

Liam leaned against the doorframe and clapped, slowly.

William lifted his head, the man he now hated with every fibre of his being within his sights.

“Laddo, you’ve done a better job on her than even I could do meself.” Liam Angelus guffawed, “The difference is, she never hates me, she’ll always love me and loves me even more when I whip her into submission. You never had the balls to keep her. Did you really think she was yours? She’ll never be yours! Stupid boy! She’ll only ever want her daddy!”

Dru let out a whining cry and ran to Angelus, singed skin and smoke flying behind her, whimpering as he took her into his arms.

“There, there, my perfect girl, daddy will make it better.” He said with an evil leer as she lay her head against his chest, “We’ll make the nasty boy go away. He’ll go or we’ll make him.”

Angelus shot Spike a look which said he’d won, a look which told Spike the game was on and the fledgling was left wanting.

………………………………………………………………………………………………..

_“N-no, way!”_ Buffy bleated as she managed to get a signal in town to speak to her friend back in California as her mom boarded her train. _“He moved on that quick? I thought he cared about me?”_

_“Buffy,”_ Cordelia said, _“Josh was lonely, he needed someone. Oh, my god, admittage! Ok, it was me. I only gave him a sympathy blow job, he was sooo sad.”_ Her friend confessed with no remorse, as if that explained it all.

_“Fuck you!”_ Buffy yelled before cutting her former best friend off. She knew her life in California was over, she never, ever wanted to go back to that nest of snakes.

…

“Buffy?” Piper asked as she rubbed her back in concern, “Are you alright?”

Buffy’s tears had flowed as her mom’s train drew away and she rubbed her face dry with the sleeves of her sweater. “I don’t know what I want,” she sighed as she moved to a red metal bench seat on the platform. “I thought I was happy back in California, I didn’t want to come here but I couldn’t let mom go without me, she needs me. Mom never says it and she’d never force me to come but I know she’d be lost without my help, we’re a team, we always have been.” She said miserably. “It’s just…I miss being with people of my own age, I never have enough time for a boyfriend and I have lots of friends across the world but I hardly keep in touch, they drift away and then I feel lonely.” Buffy said, her lower lip wobbling.

“Ey up, chuck,” Piper said as she sat beside Buffy and nudged her shoulder with her own, chuckling at Buffy’s look of confusion, “You’re here now, you barmpot, and you’ll have new mates, what do you say we go off and get addled somewhere? I’ll take you down the Cock n’ Bottle?”

Buffy stood and said “I have no idea what you just said but I want to know what a cocknbottle is?”

Piper placed her hand on Buffy’s shoulder, “It’s a pub, you gawby!”

Buffy’s eyebrows raised even higher as she attempted to understand the new British slang.

“Buffy, let’s go an’ get a pint.”

A drink. That, she understood.  


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end of the last chapter, Piper asked if Buffy wanted to go to the pub. Always the best place to go following the injuries she's had...

“Err, Buffy, I think you might want to slow down a bit, your mum would kill me if she knew you’d been drinking on your medication.” Piper said, concerned as Buffy began swaying to a track on the jukebox at two-thirty in the afternoon.

“But I love this one!” Buffy said as a slow song ended. She took a coin from her pocket and clicked the numbered buttons with her next choice, hitting a song by Nerf Herder. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear this one again.” She grinned.

The riff ripped out in the quiet pub and Buffy wiggled her hips to the rapid beat, her arms raised above her head with her eyes closed.

“Buffy!” Piper said urgently.

“Leave her, you mardy cow, the daft apath’s happy an’ you promised me you’d sit in my lap, Pip.” The newcomer reprimanded Piper.

Buffy giggled as she watched Pipers reaction to Kyle, her supposed, best friend (who was clearly besotted with her) winked and ushered Piper closer. He sank back into the bench seat with his arms spread wide along its length. He was tall and muscular with shaved dark hair, skin tight jeans and a grey hooded sweater. Piper rested against him and looked comfortable for a moment before she considered his soft brown eyes, those eyes filled with adoration as he dropped his head and moved his lips towards hers. Piper stiffened and turned her head away towards to Buffy, her eyes filled with fear before she recovered herself, standing quickly and rushing to Buffy. “I’m going to the loo.” She said urgently, her eyes urging Buffy to follow her as she glanced at the dark wood door, marked ‘Ladies’.

It took a moment for Buffy to catch on and she glanced at Kyle as he watched them both intently. “Uh, Ok?” She replied, as she was dragged by her arm into the ladies’ room.

“The tosspot keeps doing this!” Piper said in frustration. “There’s nowt I can do! He’s been my best friend since nursery school!” She said, slamming her hands on the basin before her.

“Uh, I’m probably not the best person to ask, my last relationship didn’t go so well.” Buffy said, swaying slightly, “My best friend told me she gave my ex a blow job.” Her eyes prickled with tears.

“Shit, Buffy, I’m sorry, you don’t need this now. Kyle’s a wazzock but the way he gawps at me, god, it makes me want to jump his bones.”

“Josh never made me feel that way.” Buffy stated as she grasped the front of Piper’s sweater to steady herself. “He must like you, a lot.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “No guy ever looked at me like he looks at you.” She said sincerely.

“It scares me, he looks at me like I’m his scran and I feel like I want to be it! Think on that, Buffy.” Piper said breathlessly as she looked at herself in the mirror.

“Uh?” Buffy uttered, she had learned several languages in her travels but none which made as little sense as northern English.

“I-I think it’s my round, “Piper spluttered shakily before taking her wallet out of her pocket. “Buffy, d’ you want another pint of brown?”

Buffy had tried her best to fit in, but the brown ale she’d been served when they arrived was disgusting. Piper had asked what she wanted upon their arrival and Buffy had surveyed the room, spotting a few old men drinking a tall glass of a brown drink and asked for one, her attempt to fit in. After forcing down one glass she’d felt tipsy, she didn’t think she could manage another.

The two made their way to the bar as a whistle rang out through the bar. They turned and saw Kyle who had brought another round in their absence.

“I’m driving!” Piper said, her demeanour stern but her eyes indulgent as Kyle rolled his neck lazily and bounced the foot he’d propped on one knee.

“Stop your blether and come ‘ere, petal,” he said slyly as piper eased into seat beside him. He reached out and ran his fingertips over Pipers face. “Ma said she’d drop Buffy back home, I told her I was sleeping over at yours tonight.”

Buffy took a sip of the hated beverage and thought ‘what the hell!’ as she gulped it down.

…

“I can’t leave Buffy alone!” Piper said, truly tanked-up on Kyle’s kisses, she’d spent two hours trying to avoid her amorous friend before she finally gave in and realised there was truly something between them, there always had been.

“Ma ’ll shit the bed if she pukes in the car, petal.” He said, his lips caressing the crook of her neck.

“You’ll have to carry her to the car and we’ll have to stay at the big house,” Piper said coyly. “There’s tons of room and her mum won’t be happy if we leave her drunk in the house.”

Kyle grinned as if all his birthdays had come at once as lifted a sleeping, inebriated, Buffy into his arms.

…

The amorous couple giggled drunkenly as Kyle laid Buffy on the sofa, turned on a lamp and pulled a throw across her body, before leaving the girl to sleep in front of the TV as they headed to the kitchen to make a cuppa. I didn’t take long before they’d raced up the stairs, whooping and laughing, the wooden stairs thundering as Kyle chased the girl he’d always wanted up and into the guest wing…

…

Spike chuckled at a re-run of Steptoe and Son as he heard the car pull up outside. He turned the TV off and moved to a larger window to look below. He frowned as he watched a tall guy carry the blonde into the house and he headed to the bottom of the attic steps to listen to the human chattering. 

The others had been quiet this past night, but he knew disturbances sometimes stirred them up into a frenzy.

He heard the TV in the room below switch on and laughter reverberate around the room as the male and female bantered, the odour of their lusty pheromones for each other floated up from the room below, the aroma of the blonde barely distinctive as she snored away in oblivion. His nose twitched as he nosed the air and took in the whiff of alcohol upon her breath as he focused on her. In a few short day’s he’d learned to recognise every odour from her body and her purely female tang made his cock twitch for the first time in…fuck, how long had it been since he’d been with a woman?

He stepped back into the shadows as he watched the young people pass him, heading into the guest wing.

The music below indicated the end of a TV show Spike knew well, The Royale Family.

_‘I would like to leave this city, This old town don't smell too pretty and I can feel the warning signs running around my mind’_

“Don’t bother tryin’ to scare the dead.” He muttered under his breath, “Whatever beastie you are, I know you're here. And I hurt beasties.” He said as he sensed one of the others in the dark behind him.

There was a murmured chuckle, almost as low as a sigh, as it flew past his ear, “How? How can you be anything other than you are, stupid vampire? You can champion no one, least not yourself.” Its sinister snicker rumbled, sending a shudder through him as it coiled back behind him and shot through his chest with no warning.

Spike clenched his fists and steadied himself against the wall after a wisp of shimmering smoke descended to the lower level and headed to where the blonde lay in a drunken stupor.

“Bastards!” He uttered as he swung his legs over the bannister and launched himself after the apparition. He landed with a light thump on the floor and moved swiftly out of sight into an alcove under the stairs. His senses were on high alert, concerned the noise may have been heard by the humans making love in the wing above.

His chest was rising and falling rapidly as he heard the girl whimper and felt the temperature lower, the air becoming frosty as ice began to travel and decorate the walls, glistening as it ran across the floor tiles before him, the air misting and sweeping across the floor in a light fog as several spectral orbs raced around the room above the oblivious girl’s head.

The ice took over the room the girl lay in, scattering the room with crystals which glinted in the light from the TV.

“Bugger! Why does it always have to be a blonde they go after?” He hissed as he paced into the room and stood over the sleeping girl, the urge to touch her and drain her, overtaken by the desire to keep her safe.

Spike drew her into his arms and headed to her room, ignoring the tormented and irate voices around him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These next few chapters will bring us some more back story on why Spike is trapped and what happened to him during the past one hundred or so years.  
> Dialogue included from ‘Lies My Parents Told Me’ BtVS S7

**1900**

“Bloody let me in, come on, you old sod! She needs me!” Spike said, hammering the door with clenched fists as the Angelus barked orders at the two women to get packed from within.

With a crash, Spike booted the lock on the door and it slammed open, only to be faced with Angelus himself, anger radiating from every pore as he drew himself to his full height, attempting to terrify the fledge before him.

“I told you to stay away, boy! Dru has been more bat-shit crazy than she’s ever been with you here. Can’t you see? She doesn’t need you, me laddo? She despises you, does she not, Darla?” Angelus blamed the young vampire.

Darla looked bored and forwent any reply, instead, comparing two dresses, choosing one and throwing the other over her head.

Drusilla whimpered and hid in the corner of the room. “Daddy says you’ve been a bad doggie and you must be punished.” She began, before changing tack and dreamily swaying her hips, raising her hands above her head as they danced their own strange dance before her face. “You will stay here, where the others roam, they will be your companions in eternity. Daddy says you must be made to think about your actions. You must be punished, my William, you must be disciplined and then you can come back to mummy.”

“Dru, please, pet. Let me make it up to you, I know I can make it better.” Spike pleaded, trying to push past Angelus and finding himself pushed back by his large hand.

“You will never make it right, boyo, I’ll see to it that you never see your precious sire again.” He said, grabbing Spike by the collar of his white linen shirt. “She’ll be all the better without the likes of you to lead her away from her place at my side.” He hissed in Spike’s face. 

The doorbell rang out through the house and Angelus threw Spike back against the door, smirking as the younger vampire lost his footing and fell to the floor.

“That, my lad, will be the delivery I’ve been waiting for. Stay here like a good boy and I’ll be back with your gift before y’ know it.”

Spike sat on the floor his hands propped on his knees as Dru moved to orbit him, her graceful movements as out of place in the scenario as elephants taking tea in the parlour.

Rising to his feet, he placed his hands on Dru’s arms, trying to make her look at him, to gain some mental clarity from the barmy vampiress. “Love, please listen to me. I’d never hurt you, why can’t you understand that? Never did before, ‘ve always been your William, haven’t I?”

“Angelus is going to chop off your hands if you keep touching her.” Darla warned in a sing-song voice.

“No! You aren’t mine any longer. My boy must wait until the sunshine comes, only then will he be happy, only then will he know his future.” The crazed brunette whispered, not meeting his eyes.

“But, I love you…” William begged.

Spike felt an unfamiliar hand land on his shoulder and he turned to see who had the audacity to touch him.

The last thing he saw was a gypsy woman take a deep breath and blow some black powder into his eyes before he passed out.

…

Watching Spike prostrate on the floor, Angelus peered over the old crone’s shoulder. “So, you can do it? For a price?”

“O’ course I can, filthy _Shilmulo_ (vampire/ walking undead; Romanian).” She said spitting on the floor at Angelus’ feet.   

The purely evil vampire looked at her in disgust as it barely missed his boots.

” O’ course, _gajo_ (male, non-gypsy folk) I have added a clause into the spell I shall cast. It will mean you cannot kill me and drain me to forgo paying me. I may not have a tooth in me ‘ead but ‘m not stupid, the undead are renound for playing dirty, better off in the ground, or in a _Paramitsha_ (Gypsy fairy-tale).

Darla giggled as she chose between her finest jewels and placed them in her trunk.

“The spell can only be broken when the boy resigns himself to his fate and from what I did heard ‘pon my arrival, the lad’s pretty tenacious.” The gypsy chuckled, holding out her hand. “I’ll take my payment now, not being rude here _chava_ (boy) but I’ll not have you _chore_ (steal) from me. The boy will remain here in the house with the _mules_ (spirit or soul of a dead person).”

“Alrigh’, bejaysus, just friggin’ get on with it, woman.” Angelus said, having no idea what the evil looking old woman was saying, nor caring, just knowing he wanted this over with. He handed her a wad of notes, which she counted meticulously before slipping them inside the bustier of her well-worn black dress and closing her grey, knitted shrug over her chest.

“Leave me here, the job will be done. Take your _rinkeni_ (pretty) ladies and get on your way.” She said, dismissing him.

Angelus roared for a minion to take their trunks to the carriage.

…

The elderly traveller woman touched the face of the unconscious vampire below her. My, undead or no, he was certainly a pretty one, she was almost sad to leave the poor lad trapped in the house. Still, galbi, was _galbi_ (coins) and she could do with the extra to get through the punishing northern winter before they headed south for the summer.

Feeling sorry for him, she added an additional clause, feeling it was naff but adding it none the less as she began chanting.

True loves kiss would release the vampire and restore his soul and humanity, until then he would remain trapped in the house alongside the others who resided there.

The old woman, used to communing with spirits and the undead, shuddered as she felt the evil lurking within the house. Her family had stayed on common ground near to this house for generations and her grandmother, from whom she’d received her gift, had told tales of that house and what it had been built upon. The house reeked of death and not just because the vampires had murdered its current residents. It contained the obnoxious stink of evil which made her pull her coat up around her neck and exit the house as soon as possible. She muttered, “ _Athinganoi._ ” (danger) as her heels clicked over the stone of the front steps.

She turned to glance back at the house as the sun finally set over the horizon, wondering if she shouldn’t come back and release the poor creature from the house when the others left. She saw a movement in an upper window and shivered, turning to walk briskly away but finding herself face to face with the female blonde vampire who smiled sweetly before dropping into game face.

“You have done my companion a great service, dearest one, but you made one fatal mistake.” Darla drawled, her voice saccharine, sweet as sugar. “You forgot that my wicked Childe is not the elder of our nest and the female of the species is more deadly than the male. Also, your little tricks do not work on those not included in your spells. I am no simple woman who Angelus drags along with him like luggage, I am his sire and I will be respected!” She hissed.

“What? No!” The woman panicked, she knew she faced her demise. “I’ve done as you asked _ghel_ (girl), the _Amria_ (curse) is placed, t’was a transaction, nothing more, nothing less,” The aged woman insisted. ” I will not be taken by a filthy _shilmulo_ (Vampire), my god will protect me!” She said, taking out her rosary beads from her pocket.

“I’m afraid they won’t help you.“ Darla said, flicking her wrist in dismissal of the woman’s words and her baubles, her eyes a vivid gold. “I am in need of sustenance for the journey. Your blood is too old for my usual tastes but I am willing to take you as an aperitif, your wanderlust will give it a tang I haven’t tasted in a long time.”

Angelus chuckled, his cock hard as he relished the screams as his sire took the woman violently, the pound notes, soaked in blood, falling from her breast as she dropped to the floor.  

….

**Present Day**

Spike took a step at a time, squeezing his eyes shut as the voices surrounded them, angry orbs flying over his head, lighting his face in a lilac hue.

“You will never protect her from us…”

“You will pay, vampire…”

“She is ours, always ours, we will dust you before we allow you to have her…”

“We will have her, you cannot stop us!”

He stopped for a moment as he reached the upper landing, standing under the stained-glass window Buffy had revealed a few days previously, feeling the burn as the moon lit up the crucifix through the window, lighting up the Archangel Michael. He had been the one to cover the window, afraid of the reminder of his mother and her religion, the heavy curtains had stowed the beautiful piece of artwork away for thirty years.

….

**1880**

 “You needn't have worried, mother. You'll never have to worry about anything again. Something has happened. I've changed.” William said as kindly as he was able, her heartbeat drove him into madness but he refused to allow himself to act as anything other than the gentleman he’d been brought up to be.

His mother took a step away from him in fear, confused, as if she couldn’t pinpoint why she was afraid of her own son. It was clear Drusilla unnerved her.

“William, why, this woman is a harlot you’ve brought into our home! Who is she?” His mother had said, drawing her rosary beads out and fingering them, muttering in prayer.

“I'm the other that gave birth to your son.” Dru said, eying the cross at the end of the beads warily.

“It's all right, mother. It's only me.” He attempted to hug his mother but she pushed him away. “We'll be together forever. Allow me to do this for you, please.” He said in bewilderment.

“No! She is not what you think she is!” His mother had said perceptively. “Cecily is who you love, not this, this, harridan.”

“Please, mother, let me close for a moment and your pain will end, I can make it stop.” William pleaded.

His mother dropped to her knees and she drew the beads to her forehead, her prayer ringing out through the room as she chanted, her hands clasped as she invoked the help of a god he had once believed in.

_“Saint Michael Archangel, defend us in battle, be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil; may God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God, cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl through the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.”_

“Come, stupid Childe, leave her, we shall feed at the White Swan and find our pleasures in the night.” Drusilla said in annoyance as she left the room.

Spike stared at his mother desperately for a moment and moved to follow Drusilla.

His mother caught his hand as he passed her, her frail hand showing much strength when she thought her only son was in mortal danger.

William felt a burning pain in his palm as his mother’s, Saint Michael medal embedded itself, burning through his skin, steam rising in a wisp, causing him to hiss under his breath. He bore the pain as he looked to his mother, her eyes were still closed, praying frantically.

“Never return to this house, demon, never return unless you are willing to be exorcized. I loved my William with everything I am. You are not him, you are not my boy.” She said, sobbing and collapsing to the floor, her breathing laboured from her consumption.

_‘Your boy, always your son, always yours.’_ he said in his mind, his heart aching to remain with his blood kin. He couldn’t trust himself with his mother and he knew Dru would open worlds to him he couldn’t ever imagine.

William hesitated and flexed his hand, staring at the stamp of the Saint Michael medal which imprinted his hand and his heart forever.

“As you wish, mother.” He said, gritting his teeth before following his sire into the night.  

…

**Present Day**

He waited with the girl in his arms until he heard screams ring out from the guest wing, setting her down in the safest place in the house, he ran into the darkness.

…

The moon lit a navy sky up on the cold Yorkshire night, the clouds shrouded the craggy rocks and undergrowth, moving stealthily and blanketing the rough ground and the house below. Shadows inched across the coloured window, silently covering the cross which the defender held high in his fist, his wings snuffed out as the white sphere which had given them solace was enveloped…


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty chilling, right?  
> We left Buffy in a precarious position and in the protection of a Saint, while Spike ran off to check on Piper and her guy.

**Present Day**

Buffy awoke to a pulling sensation on her foot.

“Hmm, mom, it’s not time to get up yet, it’s still dark, school doesn’t start for hours.” She muttered, turning onto her side, her hand flailing for her comforter which she realised wasn’t there.

She opened her eyes and blinked several times, realising she was lying on the wooden floor at the top of the staircase below the stained-glass window. She screwed her eyes up and rubbed her face, experiencing the mother of all hangovers, her head pounding and the urge to vomit overtook her. 

“H-hello? I-is somebody there?” she gulped.

A shadow moved near her feet and she pulled her knees into her chest and peered into the darkness.

A low, chilling, chuckle echoed in the murky blackness, followed by a scuttling to her right.

“W-who are you? W-what am I doing here?” She uttered, a scream trapping itself in her throat as she heard several terrifying voices whispering but couldn’t make out what they were saying. She felt them all around her, circling around her head as a rush of air fanned her skin, causing a rush of goose bumps to cover every part of her body.

The moon chose this moment to break out from behind the dissipating clouds, shielding her in the light from the cross of the protector, Saint Michael.

The voices shrieked and fled along the corridor, their annoyance clear as they hissed their fury. 

Hearing a ruckus and seeing a light coming from the guest wing, she stood on shaky legs and moved towards it with her back to the wall, wishing she had taken time to memorise where the light switches were.

….

“I’m telling you, Kyle, I saw a bloody man at the foot o’ t’ bed, some boggart or something. I know what I saw!” Piper shrieked, standing in nothing but her bra and knickers in the candlelight.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Pip, if you didn’t want me you jus’ had to say, you dint need to create a barmy story an’ wail like a banshee just as we were getting’ down to business!” Kyle said huffily, getting off the dusty bed and flouncing over to his clothes before putting his jeans back on.

“So, you think I made it all up? It frit the life outta me, I wouldn’t lie about something like this!” Piper yelled, standing behind Kyle hugging herself and biting her lip.

There was a creak of floorboards outside the room and Piper grabbed hold of Kyle, holding in another scream, but shaking badly and throwing herself into his arms.

“I’m scared, what if it’s come back? I don’t wanna see it again!” She admitted, her eyes filled with large tears.

“Petal, I’m not gonna let owt hurt you. It’s just these old houses, they creak an’ bray as they settle but there’s nowt here but cobwebs an’ spiders, you crazy cow,” he said, hugging her close and kissing her head. “If that’s how this house makes you feel then p’haps, you’d better get another gig or at least make sure you’re not here after dark, sweetness, it’ll be reet.”

…

The two were oblivious to the vampire watching them from the gloom outside the door, relieved that neither of the stupid gits were hurt.

That feeling of needing to feed was high in his throat and he gulped his demon back, berating it for its audacity. Both he and it knew the reasons they were trapped there and the loneliness they had suffered through, but it still didn’t stop the demon begging for something more than rats and bloody mice. It prodded his stomach and reminded him of the cat which made its way in through an open window in the early days, testing his restraint as the scraggy puss had been a fine meal.

He pursed his lips and told the side of him which adored the kill and cherished the feeling of hot, lifegiving blood cascading down his throat, in no uncertain terms, that this was the most excitement they’d had in years and he wouldn’t be ruining it by murdering _any_ of the houses current occupants. The monster within him backed off and licked his wounds, it didn’t like feeling desperate but not feeling at one with his host was all the worse and the two had spent so much time together they understood each other too well after all these years. 

Whatever had been in the room with the two teens was long gone but Spike knew it was only a matter of time before it was back with a vengeance.

The others were out for blood and anyone would be fair game.  

….

Buffy, moved slowly along the moonlit corridor, her steps intrepid as she was utterly petrified. Light flooded in from both ends where the large windows gave respite from the inky blackness until she reached the door which was ajar with a bare flicker of light from within.

She paused as she heard Pipers voice from the room, its near hysterical tones lowering as Kyle murmured something to her in his low, male voice.

A movement caught her eye and she peered to the end of the corridor, trying to make out what she had seen. She was sure she had seen a long haired, willowy shadow figure rush around the corner.

This was not good. When she’d spent time in India as a child with her mom, her Ayah (nanny) had spoken of spirits which surrounded her and frightened the young girl so much that she hadn’t slept for a week.

Joyce had caught Ayah saying things to her daughter and challenged her before dismissing her and moving them swiftly on to the next job in Scotland. 

…

**India** **1998**

“Tell me!” Have you cursed her? Are you a witch? She’s always been such a good sleeper, a happy little girl, until I entrusted her into your care!” A young and fiery Joyce whispered urgently, unaware her daughter was listening, hiding behind the mosquito net which hung over her bed.

“I am no _daayan_ , (Witch) madam, the girl must leave here, she is like an open book! The spirits want her, they would fasten themselves to her light and drown her in their darkness. I only sought to help her, madam, only to protect her from them, I promise you. You must take her away from this place, I beg you, “Ayah had implored, clasping at the sleeve of Joyce’s golden sari. “The Kavi (Seer) came, he said Buffy is in danger.”  

“I can’t listen to this bull any longer! Not only are you out of your mind but you’ve brought some person into my home without my permission! Get your things, I’m driving you home to your family!” Joyce said furiously, her face flushed as angrily like it often had with her father when she was a child. Buffy had known her mom was truly hopping mad.

…

**Present Day**

Buffy had in fact seen something as a child, the figure lingered at the end of her bed and had followed her around during their time in India, even during the daytime as she and her mother drove the dusty, poverty stricken streets in the oppressive heat. She felt like it remained by her side for a reason, that it wouldn’t hurt her and felt happiest at her side. The entity had never done anything to scare her and sometimes did funny things to entertain her like making her favourite teddy dance like a ballerina upon her bedcovers. She never saw it, it always remained at a distance during these antics. She had drawn a picture of the family with a grey, black figure in the background once and this was how Ayah had realised what was happening and tried to talk to Joyce about it. Ayah’s own anxieties and fears of the spirit world had fed into a young Buffy’s mind, encouraging night terrors causing her not to sleep after that.  

Once they left India, her ghostly friend had never bothered her again but she often felt its presence, like a comforting old blanket draped around her shoulders, even now. She tried to convince herself that this wasn’t the first time she’d seen something but she knew she had consciously chosen to ignore the abnormal things she’d seen around her throughout her whole life.

A sad, spectral old man in the window of the neighbour’s house in California had been the last time. He’d looked up at her as she closed her drapes and smiled sadly.

Before that, these sightings had happened regularly from her youth, so regularly she began to ignore it and just accept it as a part of her life. If she didn’t acknowledge them, then they tended to drift away and she never thought too deeply about it.

One thing that had never happened before now was a spirit touching her, she’d never been affected, they’d always just been there, until tonight. They were becoming bolder and she knew it.  

…

Spike lay on his bed, taking unnecessary breaths, his exhalation rasping as he listened to the incessant banging on the door to his room in the attic. He took his pillow and enclosed his ears, barely drowning out the din which his vampiric hearing heard at decibels louder than a human would.

“Will. You. Just. Fuck. Off!!!” He gritted through his teeth, his whole body tensed.

There was silence for only a moment.

“The old bitch could only protect you so much, hell’s spawn, she’s gone now and her spell is waning. Once it does, you will have nowhere to run.” A deep voice resounded, “It is only a matter of time before we get to the girl, you cannot protect her forever.” It laughed with gusto, echoing throughout the attic as it went back to wherever it resided within the house.

…

The cleansing, early light scattered low under the drapes, its beaming light calming her as night turned to dawn. Buffy lay in her bed, wide awake, her mind in overdrive with Piper snoring gently at her side and Kyles, gangly body strewn across the foot of the bed, his long arms hanging to the floor and his breath heavy in slumber.   

All three had heard the banging overhead and decided it was for the best they stayed together that night, not speaking of what it could be, their closeness, their protection. She rolled over onto her stomach, ignoring the murmurs of her bedfellows as she pulled a pillow over her head, finally drifting off into a restless sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few more revelations in this chapter, there's definitely more than one protector in the house.

**Present Day**

The young people in the house were subdued the following day, the night before had been all too much for them all. They’d managed to snatch a few hours’ sleep, huddled in the same bed, until the doorbell rang announcing the arrival of the landscape gardeners. It was nine-thirty and the men brought along with them a sense of safety and normality.

Piper and Kyle, snuggled as Buffy padded downstairs to answer the call. She opened the door and found a man dressed in a high vis jacket standing on the doorstep.

“’Lo, Miss, I’m John. If you don’t mind me sayin’ you look like you’ve ‘ad a heavy night, petal, few too many o’ the brown, was it?” The middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and weather beaten skin chuckled, holding his hand out to Buffy, who was wearing her pyjamas and pink fluffy robe, along with her favourite bunny slippers, the softness of which didn’t give the feeling of warmth it usually did in the cold, British weather.

Buffy shook his hand and gave a wan smile, “Hi, I’m Buffy. My mom isn’t due back until tomorrow. She said you’d know what to do?”

“That’s right lass, there’s a lot of clearin’ to do and then we need to take the refuse back to the garden waste recycling plant, can’t say we’ll be here more than a few hours.”

“OK, uh, the kitchen’s just here and the downstairs bathroom, just there. Come on in and get what you need. I’ll be upstairs, holler of you need anything.” She said ushering John inside and pointing to the kitchen. “Oh, yeah, mom said take your boots off when you come inside, the flooring is original and she wants it preserved.” Buffy said, all business, even if she didn’t feel like it.

“O’ course, Buffy, the boys and I will be careful, thanks for lettin’ us make a cuppa, you wouldn’t believe how many jobs we go to where there isn’t even access to the lav.” John said, grinning.

Buffy raised an eyebrow at the word ‘lav’ but took it to mean lavatory. “No problem, you have a nice day now.”

The younger lads tittered as they loitered behind John, elbowing each other as they mucked about and mocked Buffy’s American accent, letting off low whistles as they took in the girl’s American accent and pretty face.

She headed back upstairs with her cheeks burning.

John turned and lightly slapped the head of the nearest boy with a tut, “Get to work you bunch of baboons!”

….

Buffy left Piper and Kyle asleep as she ran a bath in the bathroom along the corridor. She felt a little afraid as she remembered she’d heard something in there the previous day but her need to get warm after the past nights shocking events outweighed the concern she might come across some other malevolent spirit. Anyway, they wouldn’t come out in the day, would they? 

….

Spike heard the workmen arrive at the house and squeezed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger as he shifted on his bed. He’d had a few hours’ sleep but knew he’d need more if he was to watch over Buffy again tonight and keep the others at bay.

He stumbled to the door of his room, wearing only his jeans and listened to the ancient pipes banging as a bath was run below. Moving to his spy hole over Buffy’s bedroom he saw the young couple from the night before entwined in each other’s arms and moved on to the secret door which led to the bathroom he’d used the day before to have his first shower in years.

He crept silently through the door which had once been a priest’s hole during the reformation of Henry VIII and to its secret exit, now the bathroom below.

‘Fuck’ he gulped, watching through a small gap in the wooden panelling and closing his eyes as the girl removed the last of her clothing before stepping into her bubble bath.

Her scent alongside the vanilla scented bath oils hit him like a jackhammer, causing his body to throb with want. He hadn’t seen a woman like this since…well, since Drusilla had allowed him to take her that final time back in…his mind so filled with Buffy’s heady scent he couldn’t remember.

There had been that one time after that, with Darla while Angelus had gone to hunt but it had never been the same as his ripe, wicked plum. Darla had demanded his presence and Drusilla had taken tea with her dollies, paying no mind as Darla used him as her fuck toy. It said it all didn’t it? Dru didn’t care.

He’d hated himself for watching some of the other residents of the house over the years but none had been so perfect, so flawless and delicious as her. This one was a California peach, her bronzed skin likened to pure gold, her gilded hair spun by heavenly doves.

‘You are a total wanker’ he told himself as the poet of his youth came to the fore, but yet he allowed William forth as the situation warranted it, the girl was poetry in motion.

He almost laughed out loud as she lifted one lithe leg, the colour of burned amber, and dipped her biggest toe into the water, testing the temperature before she placed it to the bottom of the bath, biting her lip in anticipation.

‘Fuck!’

Then she turned, her full frontal allowing him to see every part of her faultless body, from her golden hair, messily piled in a band upon her head, to silken perfectly smooth skin, pert breasts and strip of downy, dark fur between her legs. He couldn’t believe any other who saw this goddess would think any different, she gleamed like a fairy nymph.

She gripped the edges and sunk into the water with a sigh which made him want to cum in his pants, right there and then and his hand dropped to clutch himself in his jeans.

There was silence, the only interruption a dripping noise from the tap as the steam rose around her, filling the room in clouds, the condensation covering the bathroom mirror and floating around her.

She lay her head back against the rim of the bath, finally relaxing as dappled light danced across her skin from the frosted glass window.

He could watch her forever and be happy.

…..

This was ecstasy, Buffy thought as she rubbed her ankles together, the faucet dripping lightly. She felt her tight muscles melt as the heated water slackened her tense neck and shoulders. Bliss, she told herself.

There was a creak and she felt herself jerk awake, she’d somehow drifted off for a moment.

The water was more chilled than it had been and she felt like something was in the room with her. Her senses were on high alert as her hackles rose.

“Hello?” She said, sitting up quickly, the water gushing over the sides of the bath.

She heard whispering behind her head and leapt up, her foot slipping in the water as she grabbed for her towel.

There was a sound like chalk on a blackboard and she looked to the mirror in horror, something which wasn’t there had written the letter ‘L’.

Buffy clapped a hand over her mouth, capturing the scream in her throat as she watched the writing become ‘Leave’

She was frozen to the spot, cool water around her calves as she hugged the towel to herself, her flesh covered with raised bumps as her eyes darted to the door.

The voices hissed and surrounded her.

“Please, no! Please don’t,” she gasped as she stepped from the bath, grasping her towel and backing towards the wooden panelling near the window.

The buzzing of voices became higher and higher until she thought she might pass out from the oppressive atmosphere within the small space.

The white noise hit her brain and she felt her stomach clench with the urge to vomit.

…

The only non-corporeal one who had followed Buffy and her mother to the house watched in horror as the entities it had experienced within fluttered around her loved one.

She hid herself but it was only a matter of time before they noticed her presence as Buffy’s guardian angel, her protector. She’d had been at her side since the moment the young girl was born. She had passed at the very same moment Joyce had screamed her child into the world, never knowing her own mother drew her last breath as she squeezed her eyes shut in pain as she had given birth, twenty-one years before.

She sensed another kindly spirit, one who cared and hovered behind the walls as her granddaughter quivered near its essence.

Grace was Buffy’s grandmother, her blood kin. Passing young and having nothing to do with her daughter due to a stupid argument, she had watched over them both for many years. She’d never experienced anything so sickening as the aura which surrounded her granddaughter in this house and for the first time in her otherworldly existence, she was truly afraid for her, for them both.

…

Buffy’s heart rate had risen to dangerous proportions and she began to swoon.

Spike could see it happening, like a car accident in slow motion.

He knew he had to act and with lightning speed and he flung the panel open and grasped her head in the cradle of his palm to protect it from hitting the side of the tub as she blacked out.

Grabbing her waist, he heard her moan and closed his hand over her mouth before dragging her back into the darkness, to the safety of the bones of the house.

“I won’t hurt you. I want to help. Don’t scream. Love, please, don’t scream. I’m here to help.”

**….**

**1959**

“Spike, please, I’m dying, you have to listen to what I want! I won’t be here forever and you know the others will dog you more once I leave, they won’t have my life force to draw upon and you need to have a place of solace!”

Spike smiled at his friend indulgently, He had smelled the cancer as soon as it began to invade her body over a year ago, and, even now, she had the faintest whiff of the last chemotherapy she’d had. That had been three months before, and he had been there for her when she came home from the hospital with a terminal diagnosis the following week, felt the sobs thrum through her chest.

He had spent her whole life as her friend, first, the imaginary friend she told her parents she had as a child but who was as real as any one of them. Then, as she’d grown and married as a distant memory. She’d moved back into the house when both her parents died in nineteen forty-nine, her husband already lost to her in an air-raid in nineteen forty-two which hit his London club while he entertained some young doxy, while his wife, Elizabeth Beaumont, cowered in an air-raid shelter with anyone else who had managed to get there from Knightsbridge in their finery. London took a heavy hit that night.

“Let me bring the Wicca girl in, please, at least have somewhere that’s your own!” She shouted, slamming down a pan in the kitchen, “Don’t make me leave you like this again!”

He rushed to support her as her legs buckled. “Christ, pet, I’m meant to be evil but I keep bloody lettin’ you have your own way, tell me why that is again?” He chuckled, settling her into a chair at the dining table as she laughed, clutching her stomach in pain.

**….**

**1949**

Her first words as she entered the house after the double funeral were, “I know you’re here, William, come out and help a grief-stricken woman with her bags.”

Spike had grinned, glad for her company. He had worried she’d forgotten him when the funeral tea had been held at the house after Lizzie’s mother and father had died almost simultaneously and she had followed the procession to the family burial plot within the grounds. His oldest friend hadn’t acknowledged him and he had been hurt, especially as he’d tried to help her parents as much as possible, once helping her demented father while he wasn’t able to get out of the bath and calling an ambulance anonymously when her mother passed a few weeks later.

“Told you not to marry that wanker, Lizzie.” He’d said, before moving to the top of the staircase.

“Tsk, you know I never cared for your vulgar language, William.” She tutted with the same smile he knew.

“Never cared for much, as I remember.” He replied, taking her in from his perch at the top of the stairs.

She was the same, but older. Still the blonde he’d adored, the girl in pigtails who had been his only friend, but she had many more creases on her face and streaks of grey through the blonde. She’d aged and he hadn’t.

Elizabeth stood in her brown, a line skirt and light blue sweater, looking small against the large front door.

“Hmm,” She pondered, plonking her bags on the floor.

He could sense the fun side he’d always loved and remembered, it was like having his best friend back, right away.

“I don’t think you turned up in the chapel and said anything at all when the priest said ‘If anyone can show just cause why this couple cannot be lawfully joined in holy matrimony, then forever hold their peace’ and all that rot.” She grinned, using one of his sayings, even though her tears of grief shadowed her face.

“Err, vampire here! Like you ever expected that I would, churches, crucifixes, priests and such are pretty much a no, no for the undead. Plus, there is the little matter that I can’t leave this place.” He smiled, giving her a wink and gesticulating above him.

He watched her face crumple and rushed down the steps, taking her into his arms as she sobbed.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here.” Lizzie wept as she held him in a vice like grip.

“Pet, you know I couldn’t ever leave, s’pose perhaps you forgot about me?” He questioned sadly, revelling in the close, human contact he’d not experienced in many years.

“I never forgot about you and I’m sorry, I always thought about coming back but mother and father wouldn’t allow it. They said I must make my own way after John died and I did. They didn’t even tell me how bad it got for them, William, they didn’t tell me in their letters that daddy was ill. I was in India for years, enjoying the sunshine but I always thought about you, I was truly sad you were stuck here but then, you told me to live.” She looked up to him sadly.

“That I did. Did you ever meet anyone who understood you, pet? Perhaps a woman? Did you meet anyone who you could be with?”   

She started in his arms, like he’d said something which was taboo, and to her it was. To him it was something he knew she was, but he needed to ask the question, he wanted to know her leaving wasn’t in vain.

He clutched her closer, “Lizzie, you can tell me the truth, haven’t you always been able to tell me anything? Perhaps it’s too soon but I always knew, always knew.” He murmured softly against her ear as she howled in his arms in grief. He knew the hurt was not only from loss, it was because she had never admitted the way she felt about her sexuality, never had been able to tell anyone close to her and certainly could never bring someone who made her happy home to her parents.  

Lizzies sobs slowed and she looked up to him, her hazel eyes red rimmed and honest as she nodded, yes.

He looked thoughtful for a moment, not sure what to tell her. He’d lived in the house forever and heard every conversation, every argument, utterance of love and hate, every row. Now was the time to tell her.

“Your mother knew, mothers always know these things, pet.” He said as he brushed a stray, silver hair from her face and cupped her chin with his palm. “Your mum tried to tell your dad once and he wasn’t havin’ any of it. She kept you at arm’s length because she didn’t want you hurt, pet, but she used to cry at night cause she missed you an’ loved you. She touched a photo of you every night before she went to sleep. I’m so sorry.”

She looked around the lower floor and shuddered. “Are _they_ still here?”

“Your parents, no, they’ve gone on to a better place but the others…always, my Lizzie.  I’ll settle you in and watch over you as I’ve always done.” He said, watching her visibly relax as he said it. “Now, what ‘bout some googy eggs and soldiers?”

She gave him a watery smile and followed her only true friend to the kitchen.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some pretty great revelations, read on, if you dare....

_“Don’t scream!” He hissed, “Love, please don’t scream, I won’t hurt you.”_

…

**Present Day**

An echoing voice whispered in Spikes ear. “Beautiful, isn’t she?”

He started and closed his eyes as he heard a pleasant voice behind him, reacting in his usual way, pay no heed and it’s probably not there.

“She’s so very special.” The syrupy voice claimed.

He clutched Buffy to him as she moaned, beginning to come around, attempting to ignore the voice behind him.

“I remember it all, I’ve known her forever.” The voice drifted in and out, resonating in the small space. “I’ve known her since she was a babe.”

He turned his head and saw only the cold brick carcass of the house behind him, it’s dark stone, dripping with condensation. There was no one there.

Pulling Buffy along, he tried to keep her wrapped within her towel as he dragged her through the tight space. He felt its presence loitering behind him.

“Will you just fuck off!” He hissed, through tight lips as he felt the presence surround him. “You’re playin’ me, you don’t know this girl.”

“Dear me, what language, William! Whatever would your friend, Lizzie, say?”

“You don’t talk about her! You don’t even mention her name!” he muttered, keeping his voice low for Buffy’s sake.

“But Lizzie was good to you, why wouldn’t you want me to speak her name?” The entity asked.

“She was my friend, you bastards! I’ve put up with enough shit to last ten lifetimes, why can’t you just let me be!”

“But I have every right to speak her name, I’m one of the only good spirits within this desolate place, only one of a few who love. Lizzie’s spirit permeates this dwelling, it’s as though she never left. The woman watches over you and I feel I know her, just her essence tells me many things.” Grace’s voice hummed as the darkened space lit up like sunlight, “Why ever do you think I would allow you to save my Buffy, William?”

The vampire shuddered and then stopped as he reached the inner trapdoor, which led to the attic. “You’re not here!”

Spike pushed Buffy up through the hatch in the ceiling and onto the floor of his room in the attic before moving quickly to close the entrance, covering it with an old trunk, collecting the groaning girl in his arms and laying her on his bed.

Once she was there he carefully arranged her towel, running his hands through his hair anxiously. He moved to pick up his moth-eaten, but mainly clean, argyle throw tucking it around her gently. Regardless of his urge to touch her soft skin, she wouldn’t thank him if she woke and found a stranger near her, let alone molesting her.

Watching her through holes in the wall and viewing her perfect body was nothing compared to having her feverish heat so close that he itched to drain her lifeblood. Even the sheen of sweat which covered her brow gave him the urge to seep his tongue across her skin and taste the salty tang before sinking his fangs into the throbbing vein at her temple.

He stepped back as she spoke.

“Mom?” She whispered as she came too.

He hovered over her, not sure what to say. “Please don’t worry, pet, I won’t hurt you.”

“H-hurt?” She said, opening her eyes wide and pushing herself back against the grimy pillows of the bed. “Oh-oh god, they were there, I-I couldn’t see them but I knew they were there! Y-your one of them!”

She opened her mouth to scream and he darted forward, cupping his hand over her mouth carefully.

“I won’t hurt you, pet, ‘m not one of them, promise.” He said as gently as he could.

She blinked and lifted her hand to his, gesticulating with her hands for him to remove his. Once he was sure she wouldn’t scream, he released her.

Buffy reached for the blanket and tugged it up to her neck, her eyes wide in terror as they darted around her. “W-where am I? What is this place? Why have you taken me? I was j-just having a bath and then…then…” Her teeth chattered in distress.

“Hush, love, you’re still in the house, jus’ in the garret, pet. You’re safe with me, ‘s my room.” He attempted to soothe her anguish.

“W-who are you? And what are you doing, living here, in my house?” 

He chuckled, living? Even if he was living what sort of life was this?

Regardless of her alarm at finding herself in this room with a strange man she found her spirit and bravely raised an eyebrow before perusing him through slitted eyes.

Spike chuckled, her house, Christ. “Seems this house isn’t anyone’s really, ‘part from theirs, the others. Tell me, love, how much do you remember about last night?” He said, looking around him in awe, as if he was thinking of the antique dwelling.

Even in the low light of a room with its window painted black, Buffy couldn’t help but notice his startling blue eyes and long lashes, the dark circles underneath, giving his eyes a hollow look. The man’s long wavy hair was tied back away from his face with a length of old ribbon, the sculpted planes of his face prominent along with a strong jawline. It was then she noticed he was naked from the waist up, fine dark hairs of his lower abdomen leading to his navel, tight abs preceding the sculpted muscles of his chest. He was slim and compact but he looked like he hadn’t had a meal in a very long time.

“I-I, t-they, uh, something touched me, in the dark, s-something terrifying. You still didn’t answer my question.” She said, fingering a hole in the blanket uneasily, her fists clenching.

“That’s because there’s no easy way to explain without scaring the living daylights out of you, sweet.” He said thoughtfully.

What was there to say? He thought.

Spike dropped in the old leather chair next to the bed, letting out a rush of breath as he watched her every move.

Spike was hyper aware of the girl staring at him, then around the room as if she was looking for an escape route. He was drowning in her scent, this room had barely changed in one hundred years and then there was her, permeating the dusty and timeworn space with vivacious life. Her heart hammered so deliciously he felt his fangs piece his gums before urging them back.

Oh, no you don’t, he berated his demon.

Feeling fear dissipating and anger surging at being abducted and taken to some murky hideaway within the house, she stood on shaky legs and pulled her towel and the blanket around her, keeping her back to the wall, as far from the stranger as possible as she edged towards the main access door to the room. She glanced at the trunk covering a hatch on the wooden surface. The dusty, timber floor had long gouges from where the chest had been pulled back and forth. Buffy wasn’t sure what scared her more, the fact that there was a perfectly good entrance to the room or the reality that this hatch had been used more often by the stranger in her presence.

“Answer me this, do you live here or not?” She snapped, her gaze on the door to her salvation.

“’S not as simple as that pet, I dunno if you’d believe me if I told you the truth.” He said, moving to balance one foot on his knee and place his hands at the nape of his neck, apprehensively.

Buffy took his languorous pose as an opportunity to run, not anticipating the speed in which the man could move. She barely had her hand on the rusty handle and he was behind her, he’d trapped her within his arms, his breath fanning up upper back. He wasn’t touching her but he was barely inches away and she was painfully aware of how naked she was underneath her towel and blanket. She felt her whole-body flush with gooseflesh at his close proximity and she couldn’t be sure why. It felt sort of good.

“Please, just let me go!” She begged.

There was a thunderous knock on the door to the room and a nasty laugh filled the space outside. She had no idea where this door led but she knew she wanted out and was willing to defy whatever was on the other side to escape this room and its unwelcome guest, even if it meant fleeing for her life. 

Buffy cringed as the man behind her yelled next to her ear, almost deafening her.

“Yeah, yeah, know you’re there, you still can’t get in here, you wankers!”

He heaved a sigh and pushed away from the door.  

Just then, the voice that Spike heard earlier sang melodically in his ear, “I’ll protect her, let her go, she’ll never trust you otherwise.”  And then the voice repeated its’ earlier question to him, “Why ever do you think I would allow you to save my Buffy, William?” It repeated.

He said nothing, grimacing as he turned from Buffy, feeling her eyes boring into his back.

“Go,” he uttered, “But when you leave here go right back to your mates, don’t linger. Stairs to the lower floor are on your left. This door protects my little piece o’ heaven, leave an’ close it tight behind you.”

She hesitated, he felt it.

“Pet, I gotta tell you somethin’ before you go. I can’t leave here. ‘S not for want of tryin’. I’ve been trapped here since nineteen hundred.”

Buffy’s heart was banging so hard she thought she may have an aneurism. That was more than one hundred years! Holy crap, who was this guy? And why did he look like a man in his twenties? How was that even possible? He was no ghost, he’d touched her, carried her to a place of safety away from ‘the others’ as he’d called them.

She turned back to the door, afraid of what she might see if her eyes lingered on him too long, concentrating on a knot in the wood of the door, panting. “What are you?” She manged to say.

He wouldn’t tell her like this, not while her senses were on high alert.

“Look, get rid of your mates an’ let me meet you in some other part of the house that’s less like a dusty tomb an’ we’ll talk later. I’ve told you ‘m not here to hurt you, sweetheart.  I’ve shown myself to you because I want to help, jus’ give me chance to explain, please.” He pleaded.

Relaxing slightly, she turned the handle. It was obvious he wasn’t going to hurt her right now. Whether or not she thought he may be a danger to her, she had to find out what was going on here and this man was the key to the secrets of this old house. She knew she’d never know peace in their time here if she didn’t know the truth.

To learn the truth was easier than to face whatever was outside within the house.

“OK,” She said nervously, “OK, come down to the kitchen when they leave and I’ll make some dinner. Then you tell me everything, if I think you’re lying, I’ll call the cops.” She opened the door and walked into the sunshine of the attic as Spike hissed and sank back into the security of the shadows.

She forgot to close the door behind her as he’d requested and he found he didn’t care because he lost himself looking at her image against the sunlight. He could still see her small frame and golden hair, now mostly dry, flecked with gilded strands, almost sparking in the dappled light. The dust motes flittering around her as she disturbed the dust. He didn’t want her to leave, she was at the mercy of the others even now but he heard her friend call out from below and knew, for now, she’d be safe with her companions by her side.

His safety was a different matter.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Spike hissed, “They’re just kids!”

A bell resonated through his brain and his consciousness was snuffed out, they’d breached the limits as the door to his room was opened and Buffy left. The spell which protected him, barely held and he passed out, drifting off into a dream of past times. 

….

**1604**

The priest from St. Mary’s church led the small group of militia through the town, his crosier staff the only thing announcing who he was, the rest of his body shrouded in a hooded cloak, his face covered by totally by muslin cloth, wrapped carefully to reveal no skin. In his gloved hand he rang a bell and called, “Bring out your dead,” as he moved through the desolated village.

Many of the village doors were marked with a large red ‘X’, signifying theirs as homes which had been visited by the Plague. This plague had spread from China and had found its way to the town from a European ship docked at Liverpool, spreading down the river Ouse and from there sporadically into the countryside areas.

A town so small could ill afford to lose their field workers and this year’s harvest had already failed. Pestilence had wiped out one half of the town and starvation could so easily wipe out those left by the time winter came. The magistrate had made the decision in private, ignoring any direction from the King James I; he gave orders to men from the next village to stop the disease in its tracks in the only way they knew how. The choice was offered between death, survival and the protection of their own families. The area had been blessed in past times and had never been desolated by plague over the centuries. On this occasion, it was simply bad luck that a stranger had passed through from an infected area and stayed at the tavern. The stranger was unaffected himself but an unknown carrier of the endemic and lethal malady and the townsfolk had no way to protect themselves from the creeping death which grasped them by the throat in a strangle hold.

A cleansing aroma drifted through the village. The militia wore long black cloaks, their faces covered with a strange hooked and birdlike mask filled with herbs to protect them from the killer which slithered like a demon through the village.

The priest continued to walk on, his red eyes closed as he ignored what was happening around him. From within the fire of burning cottages, there were screams of men, women and children as mercenaries entered the homes of the dead. They removed not only dead bodies but also the living, before slitting their throats, drinking from them and piling warm, healthy deceased alongside cold, pustule and infection ridden dead.

Stronger townsfolk from the next town would bring another disease home with them, one far more terrifying than the disease which may afflict their own kin, one which, unchecked, could cause the whole of the north of England to lose their lives and move through the country, its ripples like throwing a stone into a pond. The villagers from the next town would remain minions of the Master and spread another form of death as they fed on their own.  

The militia followed their priest’s bidding, his words telling them they were offering mercy to these poor, forsaken creatures, not that they cared much, the villagers were just another unwilling meal.

Continuing to walk, the clergyman chuckled as he persisted in his duty to bless the town, keeping the healthy in the dark and ushering those who dared leave their homes to find out what was happening, back inside.  He saw to it that any that saw too much were taken by the army and slaughtered alongside the other townsfolk whose only crime was to be a family member of those who carried the plague, even if not yet infected themselves.  

“The devil resides here and he must be banished.” He called, as any religious community leader would, the smoke from his censer spilling and purging the air as he uttered prayers for the dead. His smoke merged with the incendiarism of the pseudo soldiers as the cart horses trundled along past him, the steeds shrieking in fear as they pulled their lifeless load towards the plague pit in the valley below, the prettiest of places, surrounded by craggy rocks and heather.

The people of the village dropped to their knees within their homes, begging for forgiveness and praying to their saviour, beseeching his help which would never come. They had no idea what was happening around them and could never know the religious artefacts which adorned their doors were their only protection from the scourge of the undead.  

“How careless of these inferiors to let their hearts blood flow, how very careless…” The priest tutted. His un-beating heart glad that he had dismissed those weaker, those not capable of becoming a decent minion to become just food for his army.

His long fingers coiled and twisted with delight. He sneered as the pitiable bodies were poured into their grave and pulled down the cloth from his repulsive face, barking orders to his minions.

…

**Present Day**

Within his dream, Spike comprehended that the priest’s face was one of his line, the order of Aurelius’ as he span back to reality and fell out of his chair, groaning as his forehead hit the floor with a thump. He knew the Priest was the Master in disguise, the most evil and torturous bastard he’d ever heard of in his un-life.

Dru had told him tales of Darla’s sire and the times he’d spent spreading pure evil across England during the time of reformation in England. The Master had met the pretty whore on his travels to Virginia Colony and turned his grandsire into the nastiest hell bitch Spike had ever come across, a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

He felt a kindly caress across his forehead, a gentle touch and he sat up and listened.

“William, I trust you to make this work, she needs you, don’t let me down, I can’t fail again.” The unfamiliar voice he’d heard earlier uttered. “Be her guardian, no one else can protect her like you can.” 

**….**

**Present day**

She found herself in her room and truly had no idea how she’d arrived there. Her fingers shook as she searched her dresser, eventually finding a tee and some slacks to wear and throwing the blanket upon her bed and the towel in the laundry basket.

As she changed, she looked over her shoulder fearfully at every creak and whisper of the house as she tried to take in what had just happened. There was a man in the house who lived here, he stayed here and couldn’t, ever, leave.

Her thoughts strayed back to him, he hadn’t hurt her, he’d promised he wouldn’t from the start, but what did that mean? She heard Piper call from below as she trotted down the steps to the lower level. Everything seemed somewhat normal within the house, apart from the noise created by the men working on the trees in the garden with their hedge cutters, its distant buzz like a swarm of wasps.

Once dressed, Buffy walked like a zombie back to the kitchen, tiredness finally catching up with her.

“Oh, thank god!” Piper cried, wrapping her arms around her as she wept. “I didn’t know what happened to you!”

There was no opportunity for Buffy to reply as Kyle looked up as he heard another bizarre thump from above, “Ladies, there ain’t owt keepin’ me here, ‘part from you. Get your kit packet up, I’m taking you to mine.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We left Buffy having made the decision to invite a stranger to dinner before her mum comes home. Anyone would think that's unwise, even if they had just saved you from some evil spirits. Lets hope she hasn't made a bad decision!
> 
> For those aren’t familiar with the Yorkshire dialect, this will help clarify some of the language and phrases.   
> https://www.buzzfeed.com/rachaelhgibson/yorkshire-sentences-that-will-confuse-the-fuck?utm_term=.wg1epypZ#.uam5oQoY

**Present Day**

Buffy protested, she didn’t want to leave. “Mom’s back tonight, she’ll be home soon, its fine, you guys go.”

“No fuckin’ way!” Kyle yelled, “There is no way I’m leavin’ either o’ you girls in this house!”

“Don’t listen to him, ‘E’s neither use nor ornament.” Piper said taking Buffy’s arm and leading her into the hall. “Look, I won’t go if you don’t want me too, you can tell me the truth.”

“Heard that!” Kyle sing-songed from the kitchen.

“You were meant to, think on that, soft lad.” Piper replied with a cheeky smile.

“He’s good for you,” Buffy grinned, listening in on the interaction between the two.

“He makes me ‘appy as a pig in muck.” Piper revealed.

Buffy wrinkled her nose, pigs and muck, what the hell was that all about?

The two girls laughed nervously.

“Honestly, I’ll be fine for a few hours.” Buffy replied trying not to tremble as Piper hugged her.

Piper looked her in the eye, perhaps searching for any sign of uncertainty.

“You have my mobile number, there ain’t ouwt’d stop me comin’ right back, my da’ll run me down here in thirty minutes. Promise you’ll ring if you need me?”

“I promise.” Buffy pledged as Piper clasped her tightly again.

…

**1909**

The lost one darted to the window, it had been nine years since the bastard scourge had left him there to dust with little care for his fate.

He’d watched the seasons come and go from a seat before the windows he’d smashed leaves floating inside and littering the floors of the house, swirling breezes covering the furnishings with debris and the high sun in the daytime bleaching any colour away until all that remained were weathered and threadbare ghosts of past glories.

In the summer of nineteen o’ nine a real, living person turned up pulling an old hand cart.

Spike watched the older man meander along the overgrown drive from his place just out of the sunshine, his chair always carefully placed so the sun would never touch him as it moved about its daily business. Sleep often evaded him as he waited to be released from the hell he’d been left in, deserted like he was worthless, no chance of a saviour to release him. He felt like he’d almost become a statue, his eyes vacant.

The man wearing dark blue overalls took out his tools and made his way to inspect the broken window, sizing up the damage and deciding what he might need to repair a window which he knew may need to be replaced altogether.

Spike rose and scooted into the shadows. He realised the man had seen something when he called, “Hello?” inside.

“Oh, fuck.” He murmured as he raced with vampiric speed to his room in the attic, “People.”

He’d dreaded the scenario for years and was so desperate for someone to eat, it would take every ounce of strength he had to lock his door and restrain himself. Eating any humans who arrived would be like advertising his presence and was likely to get him an angry mob and a swift dusting. His thoughts drifted to the others who had spent the last nine years tormenting him by closing basement windows he’d left open for the birds or rats to come inside, or any other source of food. They wouldn’t be so forgiving of potential human tenants and would perhaps scare them off.

In the beginning, he’d left crumbs for birds, mainly pigeons in the attic space, leaving the windows open for them and using whatever he could find left over from the houses previous occupants, sometimes catching the odd inquisitive squirrel or bat. The animals soon became wise to the fact there was danger and death within the space at the top of the house and stopped coming. When that food source ran out he was forced into opening cans and jars, emptying them onto the floor of the wine cellar and luring in rats. He’d been careful to remove whatever wines and brandies left there and was proud of his foresight until it began to run low, the painkiller of oblivion sated for a while until the houses vintage alcohol ran dry a year later. Christ, that had been a good year, spent drunk out of his mind. The others tried to frighten him but he had little will to care, either inebriated or severely hungover. They left him alone mostly.

Taking a rat was a hideous kill, the fleas and fur were far worse than picking feathers from his teeth and they had a habit of fighting back. It was less easy to break their necks, their pointed teeth taking a lump out of his hand on more than one occasion. He’d taken to delaying feeding for several days, his hunger driving him to almost the point of insanity as he waited for the rats to build a nest and breed. Once they began to have babies, he them started to pick the larger rats off, giving them a sense of security as the bolder rats braved the steps towards the kitchen. He always thought it odd that no other rats noticed that they never returned, continually breeding as they provided him with more and more food.

He was down to virtually nothing to use as a food source by the time the first family moved into the house and he thanked the powers that be that they began to order pigs blood in regularly to make blood puddings, stews, sauces and other delicacies. Spike heard the cook grumble as the blood seemed to ‘evaporate’ rapidly but they continued to order daily. He thanked his lucky stars that the master of the house especially enjoyed black pudding and chuckled to himself when he wondered if the man knew how vampire like he was when he tucked into his daily breakfast.

The smell of ripe young girls wafted to his room and his demon begged to be able to feed on them.

‘No,’ he told it, ‘We don’t know how long we’ll be trapped an’ reminded it of the time when Dru fed on the wrong girl in a town on the east coast and an angry mob nearly managed to burn them alive. They were only saved by Darla and Angelus that time, who took the mob by surprise and threw them aside like cattle.

Spike could never quite pinpoint why he’d never become a dried-up corpse from the lack of real sustenance over the years. He couldn’t see his face in the mirror but he could view other body parts and they had never taken on the papery thin and desiccated skin of a starving vampire. In his time with Drusilla and the gang they’d occasionally come across another vampire who’d suffered, restrained by magic or some such mojo. The poor creatures had begun to look like those mummified Inca corpses he’d seen in the British Museum as a child, like all moisture had been sucked away, leaving just a living, or un-dead, shrivelled shell. He could only put his durability down to some mojo within the spell which the old crone had cast on him but was unable to remember the finer details, he had been out cold at the time.

**….**

**Present Day**

Buffy felt shell shocked. She’d convinced Piper and Kyle to leave, with the promise her mom would be home soon and with many assurances that she’d call them if she felt unsafe.

She listened to the two as they left the house.

….

Kyle’s mother was beeping her horn impatiently as she waited in her car out front. The young man had called her the moment he’d managed to convince Piper to leave.

“We shouldn’t leave her, I’m gonna stay.” Piper bleated as Kyle took her by the arm and span her to him, enclosing her in his arms.

“Over my dead body! I swear I’ll throttle you if you stay in tha’ house for another minute, there’s nowt keepin’ you there apart from her. Her ma’ll be home soon, she said she’s fine, let her deal with it.”

“We can’t leave her!” Piper hissed as she pulled away.

“Stop your blether! There are men workin’ in the fuckin’ gardens, she’s not alone!”

“Outside! They’re not in there with her!” She stopped and pointed back at the house as her throat constricted. She gulped, she couldn’t say what was inside but it was some sort of malignant spirit and she couldn’t bear to leave Buffy on her own. It was like he didn’t remember what they’d been through the night before. Perhaps he didn’t believe her, he hadn’t seen anything after all.

“Look, Pip, I swear to you, I felt it, alright? I know someone who’ll ‘elp but we can’t speak to ‘im unless we leave, we need to go to the church an’ ask ‘im if he’ll come here. God woman, do you ever do as you’re asked?”

“No! But then you always knew that!” Piper said with glowering eyes as the tiny girl stared out the tall man before her, not giving an inch.

“That’s what I love about you, girl, but we ‘ave to do summit and it ain’t gonna ‘appen on its own. We have to go, the lass’ll be reight for now.” He spoke softly, trailing her face with his fingers before giving her that forgiving look which turned her to jelly. It was almost as if he just accepted Yorkshire women could be fiery and hard but so very warm-hearted and forgiving on the flip side. They were almost like the land they came from, rocky and desolate but yet delightfully tender and exquisite.

At the word love, Piper stiffened and took once last look at the house before she got into the car. She couldn’t address love with Kyle right now but she could go to speak with the priest and ask him to visit the house as soon as possible. She just hoped Buffy and Joyce would be alright in the house which she believed to be possessed by the devil himself. Even if it was, she knew she would return for work in the morning if only just to check on them. She had spunk and if these spirits thought they were going to try it on with this girl, well, they had another thing coming!

…

Buffy found herself rubbing her arms and staring around her, dreading sunset. The house felt so empty now she was alone.

But she wasn’t totally alone now, she knew that.

She took some deep healing breaths as she watched the sky through the kitchen window, revelling in the grey, lavender clouds which promised rain but were so pretty with tinges of pink from the sunset in the east, she couldn’t quite believe that darkness lingered just over the hillside.

Red Sky at night, shepherds delight, Piper had told her. Buffy wasn’t sure she’d seen any shepherds or sheep for that matter, god, the locals were so confusing.

She heard the noise from the gardeners cease and stood on tip toes to see what they were doing.

Her cell shrilled and startled her out of her reflections. The strange resident from the attic would be coming to tea as soon as sun set and she wasn’t sure why she wasn’t afraid. He lived here, if that’s what you could call it. He seemed so very normal, as if he should just be there. She didn’t have time to think upon that as she picked up her cell and answered.

“B…Bu..ff..y?” She heard her mom’s stilted voice.

“Mom, mom I can’t hear you?”

“Buffy…the t…the train…cancelle…”

“Mom, I can’t hear you, you’re cutting out.”

“Can’t get, h…staying…hotel.” Was all Buffy heard before the line went dead.

“Mom? Mom!”

She was so engrossed in trying to speak with her mom that she didn’t hear the head gardener come in and stand behind her awkwardly.

John stood for a moment before clearing his throat.

She turned quickly with a sharp intake of breath, resisting the urge to punch him in the nose but only barely, her right hand fisted as she nearly died of a heart attack. “Holy shit, you scared the crap out of me!”

The gardener lifted his hands in apprehension. “I’m sorry if I frightened you,” he said uneasily, “This big house can be scary when you’re on your own, it’s so…” he stopped mid-sentence, looking up at the ceiling. “Do you want me to run you into town, my wife an’ I could put you up for the night if you don’t want to be alone?”

Buffy relaxed slightly and shook her head. “Mom will be home soon.” She lied.

“It’s just, an’ I wouldn’t want you to fret, but my grandad worked here as a young man, he told me tales o’ this place, unsettlin’ tales.”

“Honestly, I’m fine, I’ll see you guys in the morning.” Buffy ended the conversation firmly.

“Well, if you’re sure.” He said, taking out a card from his pocket but staring around behind him in a way which unnerved her. “If you need anything just call, anytime, I can be here in thirty minutes.”

She nodded and fingered the card thoughtfully as he left. Thirty minutes was an awful long time if she needed someone. If she needed to call the cops because she’d made dinner for a psychopath, they couldn’t make it out here for all that time. Her mom wasn’t coming home, she’d gathered enough from the phone call to know that.

Being alone with a stranger was wicked scary, being alone without anyone else to turn to if she needed them was petrifying. She thought he wouldn’t hurt her but she could be found dead in a ditch and mom was all about the ditches. 

Ditches aside, her curiosity about what was happening in the house and why the stranger was living here had overridden any fears for her personal safety. She just couldn’t bring herself to care whether meeting the guy alone was ill-advised as intense fatigue clouded her judgement.  

**…**

She felt his presence before she saw him but she’d gotten used to feeling like she was being watched, especially in this house.

Her stomach rumbled as she cooked the fried chicken her mother had taught her to make, a family recipe. She realised she hadn’t eaten that day as the gurgles in her stomach became almost painful.

He stayed in the shadows, almost awaiting her invitation.

“You know, I forgot to mention, when you’re invited to dinner in this house, you know we don’t stand in the dark staring at the host?” She said out loud with bravery she didn’t really feel but fatigue making her snappy.

…

He stood in the gloom, taking his opportunity to eat Buffy up with his eyes. God, she was gorgeous. She’d pulled her hair into a loose bun and wore casual black slacks and a tight red tee, her bare feet a contrast alongside pearlescent pink toenails. He could see she was tired, that was not only obvious in her movements but also in her face, her California tan looked paler and he excused the pun as a vampire lingered outside the room, she looked dead on her feet.

Buffy’s grandmother hovered behind him, he’d come to recognise her signature. She felt like Christmas with his mother, like stroking tiny, innocent puppies or kittens which he had no urge to drain. It felt like he could trust her, and after more than one hundred years trapped in this house he felt someone had faith in him, it was a good feeling.

“You can go to her but I charge you with her care, William, I’ll leave you two alone with this warning. You don’t know wrath like mine, if you do anything to harm my granddaughter, you will pay dearly. Oh, and one more thing, eat the chicken, it’s my best recipe my own mother taught me that recipe.”

He felt fingers sharply dig into his shoulders which were far colder than his own skin. This one was strong and he heeded her warning by nodding, that seemed enough for the entity to depart. She was far stronger than the others, they could touch and grasp him but never felt like a real person taking hold of him, it was most disconcerting.

Taking a step forward, he glanced towards the sunsets last rays near the back entrance and cautiously stepped into the kitchen. He’d spent the past hour attempting to make himself presentable and had settled for wearing a dusty linen shirt he’d found in a trunk in the attic, alongside faded jeans and knee high leather boots which may have dated back to the Crimean war but fit like a glove. The shirt lacked buttons and fell open over his chest but he felt it was smarter than the ripped tee he currently owned.

…

Buffy couldn’t look because she expected to see some beast before her, not someone with cerulean blue eyes and the perfectly chiselled face as she’d perceived in the murkiness of his room earlier in the day.

She could almost feel his breath on her neck again as she remembered the moment he’d asked her not to leave.

Arranging the salad in a bowl, scattering ripe and juicy tomatoes on top and sprinkling it with dressing, she placed it on the table without looking at him.

“Sit.” She ordered, before rushing back to stop the chicken from burning, grabbing the tongs and placing the perfectly cooked pieces into an antique bowl. KFC, eat your heart out, she smirked, never as good as mom’s recipe

She heard him pull the chair out, its legs scraping the wooden floor before she turned and carried the chicken to the table before sitting and pretending to ignore him, using her fork to dig into the salad with gusto and placing some on her plate.

“Err, pet, Is it alright if I…?” He voiced, his throat sounding low and uncertain as he waggled his fingers on either side of his plate and eyed the knife and fork which lay on the counter.

Buffy looked up and realised she hadn’t set him any cutlery with which to eat his meal. With that, in the bright light of the kitchen, she took a chance and looked at him, startled by how truly azure blue his eyes were, they penetrated hers as if they could almost see into her soul.

“I, uh, s-sorry, I forgot.” She gulped, quickly glancing away but feeling her stomach clench guiltily. Her mom would not be happy as she hadn’t made her guest feel welcome. She placed her knife and fork on her plate and jumped up as if stung.

He rose and moved almost as fast as she did, placing a cool hand over hers as she went to pick up the silverware. “’m sorry, love, dint expect you to get it.”

“Uh, it’s OK,” She said blushing as she stared at his hand. She couldn’t help relish his touch, his face was beautiful and his body was amazing, she couldn’t help but look at his chest which revealed itself through an old cotton shirt. Who was this guy? Why was he here? OK, he needed a haircut badly but his scent was wonderful, intoxicating, she felt enthralled by it. 

He removed his hand but she could see it was shaking like he had a bad case of the DT’s and he snatched it back to his chest like her touch had burned him. She placed her own over his for a second as he caressed it like it was hurt before snatching it back. “I-I’m sorry, that was thoughtless o-of me, it’s been a while since we had company, uh, mom and I, we usually get out own stuff to eat, uh, we’ve sorta become self-sufficient.”

Buffy handed him a knife and fork.

…

Spike’s control was at its very limit. It had been years since he’d been this close to a human and he wasn’t sure what he wanted, he could feel her heart hammering like a hummingbird. As soon as she’d blushed her could feel her blood rise to her throat and the barest scent of arousal. She smelled like warm sweet, fragrant honey and he was desperate to taste her.

In his mind’s eye, the girl let out a yelp as she found herself pushed back against the counter, his hands clasping her upper arms as he nuzzled into her neck, his nose rubbing against her pulse point.

Moments passed in his daydream as the girl in his arms stiffly awaited her fate. He knew she was afraid, her pumping blood and body language told him so, the rush of her life as it raced through her body driving him crazy. He ignored her whimpers as his lips began to caress her collarbone, so tempted to nip, to take a small taste.

In his fantasy, he let out an unrestrained growl and she dropped the cutlery in her hand to the floor with a clatter. “Oh, god.” She uttered.

….

He snapped back to reality as the cutlery fell from his own hand and clattered to the floor. He’d somehow let go of the implements during his flight of fancy.

“Bugger! ‘m sorry, pet,” He said nervously as he retrieved the articles from the floor. 

“Uh, it’s OK, I’ll get you some fresh ones,” Buffy said moving toward the drawer.

“No!” He barked, berating himself as she turned and shot him a look of fear. “No, please don’t.” He said again, softly this time as he showed her the retrieved items in his palm. It had been an age since he’d been in polite company. “They’ll be fine,” he let out a rush of breath as she visibly relaxed, pursing her lips and moving back to sit at the table.

He found himself standing stiffly, the urge to push her chair in like a gentleman taking over as he watched her scoot her chair up and dig into the food like she was famished. He sat beside the girl as she dug in ravenously and looked up to the ceiling. 

"Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore." He thought, reminded of Lizzie’s favorite book which he kept in his own room.

Glancing again at the girl beside him, he grabbed a piece of chicken with his fingers and took a bite. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is taking us back to the past and how our Spike met his friend Lizzie

**1909**

The Beaumont family consisted of two young men, aged twelve and fourteen, John and David and their tiny younger sister Elizabeth, a toddling slip of a thing who ran from room to room and couldn’t have been more than three or four years old. Their parents Edgar and Isabelle hired a nanny to care for the siblings and spent many a night out of the mansion at various functions, as was the way of society.

Once the children and servants retired, Spike was apt to wander through the house himself, in search of blood and any other delicacies which took his fancy. The master’s best cognac was a favourite alongside the imported chillies he had flown from India where he had been stationed as a General during the late nineteenth century.

Spike had taken to chopping the hot vegetables finely and enjoying a tumbler of pig’s blood laced with Bhut jolokia or ghost chilies from Assam. Even the vampire had to be cautious with the amount he used as they had a tendency to blow one’s head off.

One particular night when the ‘old’s’, as he called the master and mistress of the house, had got into their glad rags and headed out in the cream colored nineteen o’ nine, Rolls Royce Silver Ghost, Rois Des Belges’, Spike had stolen a look from the attic as they’d left. He’d been alone for many years but even he couldn’t help but be impressed by the wonders of the modern age as he’d heard the engine cranked on the automobile and peered out from the spy hole in his attic window, wondering what all the fuss was about. Mrs. B had huddled with her scarf up around her throat in the front seat looking like she’d much rather take the carriage but Mr. B was gesticulating wildly at his chauffeur who looked nervous, like he barely had a clue how to work the recent invention.

He waited for some time to hear the staff settle down and avoided the staff quarters where he could hear the butler and a few of the other male servants taking the opportunity of the master and mistress being out of the house for the night to play a game of cards. He could smell the waft of illicit cigarette smoke and pale ale as he silently passed the rooms. The gas lamps had been disposed of when the Beaumont’s had moved into the mansion but the staff were still expected to use oil lamps or candles in their quarters. The master wasn’t particularly progressive in that way.

Spike sank down onto the sofa in the parlor before the main window, reading the day’s newspaper with his excellent eyesight in the brightest white, winter moonlight. Sipping from a full glass of chili laced blood, topped up with brandy, he barely got to his favorite part, the obituaries, before a small voice interrupted his chain of thought.

“I-I couldn’t sleep?”

He froze and looked up sharply to see the little girl of the house, standing only yards away, dressed in a white cotton nightgown which reached the floor, her hair ragged with cotton material, he guessed to create the perfect ringlets expected on an impeccably turned out child the following day when her nanny took her out into the wilds near the house. Not that anyone would see her necessarily, the mansion was in a desolate location and he remembered that was what had made Angelus chose it after the mineshaft debacle.

He placed his glass on the antique seventeenth century side table, oblivious to the worth of the item and clenched his fists, fixing to run, to hide from the plump tiny creature with the wide green eyes he so desperately wanted to eat. She rubbed her eyes tearfully and held her arms out to him.

Didn’t she know who he was? Feel any fear at what he was? Did that mean anything at all? Or was she just so trusting of adults the thought that he could drain her dry would never have entered her pretty little head?

“Where’s mama?” She said, a large tear plopping to the wooden floor where her tiny toes peeped from under her gown.

Her teddy bear hung by its arm, its beady, dead brown glass eyes glinting as they stared at him, giving him the heebie jeebies. Christ, he was a vampire and he lived in a haunted house with malignant ghosties, how the hell could a teddy bear put the fear of god into him?

She must be cold, surely, he thought, she hadn’t put on her slippers and she wore no dressing gown. The house was cold at the best of times for humans and the fires had died down hours before. He of course, remained at room temperature as always.

Spike cleared his throat, unsure whether he should say anything or just make himself scarce and hope she thought he was just a dream. “Your mother is out but she’ll be home soon.” He whispered.

“Nanny Sarah won’t wake and I want a drink.” She complained.

So am I, Spike thought, so soddin’ thirsty it’s hard not to drain the whole bloody house!

“Ah, yeah, pet, the bints prob’ly tired, she has hard work w’ you children.” He conceded, rubbing his hand through his hair.

“Will you make me some milk? I’m ever so thirsty.” She begged, taking a step towards him but then hesitating as he took a step back in shock, nearly stumbling back over the sofa.

“I don’ know about that, luv, I really think you should be in bed,” he said lowly, he didn’t want to engage the child but felt he had little choice as he stood with the moon behind him, shining a bright light from him over the floor to the child. He was corporeal and she wouldn’t mistake him for anything less.

“What if nanny comes lookin’ for you an’ you’re not in bed?”

The girl considered him for a moment and cocked her head. “I want milk.” She reiterated stubbornly.

He stared at her for what seemed like an age before sighing dramatically. “If I make you some milk will you go back to bed?”

She eyed him and nodded her head enthusiastically.

“Alright, pet, milk it is.”

The baby of the house followed him towards to the kitchens with no fear, dragging her bear across the floor behind her.

“Cook always lets me sit up.” She said, eying a tall wooden stool next to some paperwork on the counter.

Cook probably let her sit until nanny came to find the little minx, he thought, hearing her tiny heart thrumming like a hummingbird as she awaited his reply.

“’m not cook,” He replied as he took out a copper pan and looked around the kitchen, attempting to source where the milk was kept.

The little girl swiftly sucked on her thumb and he could smell the salt in the fat tears which grew in her eyes.

“Bloody hell, alright, ’ll put you on the stool, no, second thoughts, you sit on the counter an’ if you move ‘ll eat you for breakfast!” he said without thought.

He grasped her under her arms and hoisted her up onto the counter, ignoring her gasp as she clutched her evil looking teddy closer, her thumb sucking louder as she slurped on it anxiously. He felt guilty for frightening the poor child for some strange reason. He’d never been so close to a human in the whole time he’d been in the house and his fangs tingled and scratched at his lip as he tried to beat back his demon.

“Get back you bastard,” he muttered.

The little girl stared at him apprehensively, her face lighting up as she saw him smile back at her with his toothiest grin, luckily sans fangs. He didn’t want to ruin this sweet deal he had, blood and booze on tap and all the hot chilies’ he could’ve wanted. It was also rather nice to have company, even if it was of a babyish nature.

“Right. Milk.” He said moving around the kitchen as a beam of moonshine flittered over her. He found himself keeping an eye on the child as he moved around, searching through cupboards until she turned and pointed to the icebox.

“There it is, silly,” she giggled, placing her hand over her mouth as if she knew their doings should be incognito.

He wanted to ask if the milk would be comestible after a day in the contraption but he guessed he’d know soon enough. God, it had only been nine years before that he really would’ve eaten the little girl for breakfast, or more likely Drusilla would’ve. He frowned as he took out the milk bottle.

“You’re funny.” The girl stated.

Spike chuckled, “’m a lot o’ things, pet, never bin called funny before.”

“You speak funny, I like you.” She announced with a trusting grin, a bit louder than she should’ve.

“Hush now, love, wouldn’t want anyone to know you’re outta bed, would you?”

She shook her head frantically, popping her thumb back into her mouth as she watched him look for something to put the boiled milk in. She pointed at the glass bottle and teat she was usually given and he sighed with relief, pouring the milk inside and placing it beside her on the counter.

“That’ll be too hot for you yet I’d wager, princess.” He said as he watched her reach for it.

The little girl giggled, “I’m not a princess, I’m Elizabeth.” She said loudly, smiling the largest, charming and sweetest grin he could say he’d ever seen, her eyes sparkling.

“Shush now, pet, wouldn’t want anyone to know you’re awake when you shouldn’t be. Here,” he said, checking the temperature of the milk with his fingertips, “This is cooler now, prob’ly best you get back to bed, little Lizzie.”

She beamed at the nickname and held out her arms for him to set her to the floor. He battled the urge to take her blood, her succulent, baby scent almost more than his demon could take.

Stiffening, he nodded and lowered himself to allow her to wrap her arms around his neck, waiting for him to pick her up and carry her. He swung her legs to the side and cradled the tiny girl into his arms as she drank from her bottle and grabbed hold of a long tendril of his hair, rubbing it between her fingers like it was soft velvet as she slurped. She dropped evil ted and he picked it up for her before moving from the kitchen.

As they reached the top of the stairs, which he’d soundlessly ascended and headed towards the nursery, he told her she needed to get down.

She allowed him to place her to the floor with no nonsense, thankfully, and took hold of his hand before she walked drowsily along the corridor.

“I need to use the potty.” She stated as they reached the nursery door, she tugged on his hand, trying to lead him inside.

He could hear the light snores of the nanny and Lizzie’s brothers in the rooms nearby. “Now, sweetheart, you’ll need to wake up your nanny, can’t help you with that, little one, unless you can go an’ do it yourself?” He said with a rising affection for the little girl who’d made him feel needed for the first time in years. He let out a whispered chuckle. It had been nine years without a soul to talk to and what did he get? To converse with a tot. A tot who’d made him feel happier than he had in years. He’d always wanted children as a human, wanted a wife, a family. He’d always hoped Cecily would give him that, the bitch. He bit back a snarl as he remembered the cow’s name.

She let go of his hand and headed back into her room, climbing back into her bed and was dead to the world before he had time to blink. Satisfied she was settled, he closed the door gently and sensed one of the bastards right behind him.

“It would be so easy to ruin this for you, vampire. The little girl could be terrified, she would blame you for everything and never speak with you again, her father would hunt you down and burn you to dust. Gone would be the food source, gone the company, gone your precious Lizzie. What amusement we could have!” The voice hissed.

“Just bloody do it!” The vampire hissed, calling the ghosts bluff as he headed back to his room, the spirit following him all the way, whispering about the detestable things it could do to the family living in the house, not leaving him be.

“Alright!” he said eventually, through gritted teeth, “Yeah, alright! Leave the little one be an’ I won’t make myself known, you fuckers!” Spike yielded as he threw himself on a pile of old horse blankets he used as a bed, “Just leave me alone!”

The voice cackled with laughter as it ricochets through the attic space.

Spike pouted as he knew he couldn’t have anything more to do with the tiny girl again, for her own sake, however he longed for her company.

…

**Present Day**

Buffy watched as her guest ate the chicken with gusto and she wondered how long it had been since he’d eaten a decent meal. Who was this guy? Why was he here? And why didn’t she feel the urge to kick him out on his ass?

…

Spike remained silent but glanced around the kitchen, remembering old times spent there with sorrowful fondness. He’d lived a lifetime here in this house and having this firecracker here was almost as good as having his Lizzie back.

….

**June 1914**

Lizzie was exasperated as she roamed the upper floors of the house. Why wasn’t she allowed a pony? David and John had ponies by her age and they had proper Arabian thoroughbreds now! Her father had told her he wasn’t happy with the report from her boarding school, so she couldn’t have even the lowliest filly. Crickey, she admitted to herself that kicking Miss Lord hadn’t been her finest moment and she was nine and should’ve known better. The horrible Miss Lord had told her off for watching Bunty Wallace in the bath. She didn’t know why she wanted to look at the girl but she’d been curious and had taken with the girl that whole past year, she wanted the popular girl to be her friend and she still didn’t know what she’d done wrong.

She’d been sent to bed without any supper and the wicked dorm mistress had tried to take her special picture away, the one she’d drawn of the man with the sparkling blue eyes and hidden under her pillow and held onto every night as a source of comfort. The harridan had ripped it in half as she and Lizzie struggled to pull it between them and that was when she kicked her teacher in the shins, the older woman buckling from the lash of metal studding on her delicate lower leg.

The man had haunted Lizzie’s dreams (the name by which she now called herself) ever since she was a child and she’d carefully drawn what she remembered of him. She recalled strong arms carefully carrying her up to bed, making her feel safe in a way her own father never had. All she knew of her father, throughout her life, was lining up with her brothers and the nanny before the children kissed her mother goodnight on the cheek as their father wished them goodnight with a nod and a vague smile before sipping his brandy. She could never remember her father cuddling her like the man she evoked in her mind had and she’d always been so desperate for her daddy to show her some affection. Once she’d taken the chance to run for him and throw herself into her father’s arms, only to find herself held at arm’s length as he barked at the nanny to take her away. She’d never tried again.

Lizzie kicked the door at the bottom of the stairs to the attic with her hobnailed boots in fury, not caring about the noise and with disregard for the splices of wood which chipped away from the frame as she did so.

Her father had been complaining about some people called Suffragettes earlier that evening. Lizzie had been allowed to stay if she was quiet but she was ushered swiftly out of the room as the evening papers arrived, delivered by a grave looking Banks, their Butler. Her elder brothers were allowed to stay as the atmosphere changed rapidly and they all turned to stare at the youngest member of the family like she shouldn’t be there. Banks took her arm professionally, yet kindly at her father’s nod and removed her from the room before closing the door.

She’d poked her tongue out at the door and resisted the urge to scream in frustration.

Stealthily listening at the door to the kitchen she’d overhead something discussed about a person called Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria. Cook had tutted and said she was fetching the cooking brandy before a maid spotted Lizzie loitering and closed the door tightly with an apologetic look and a polite nod.

Elizabeth Beaumont was angrier than a swarm of bees as she flung the door to the attic open, no one wanted her! They thought she was a child and she was not a child! She was nine years old and everyone in this house treated her like she was five! She clattered up the stairs and wailed in annoyance like a banshee as the shimmering moon poured through the rounded upper windows, bashing her hands against the glass and feeling it flex under her fists.

She was breathless as she heard a creak of a floorboard beside her and recognized the shape of a man standing frozen like a statue, right beside an open window, the scent of one of her father’s cigars wafting towards her on the early summer breeze as he held his breath.

She was silent and they both stared at each other in recognition.

“Lo, pet. ‘s bin a long time.” The man eventually said, as she watched his outward exhalation from the cigar blown out on a puff through the window.

…

**Present Day**

Buffy laid her knife and fork carefully on the plate and leaned back on her chair, resisting the urge to rub her belly in satisfaction. She stared at her plate as she waited for him to finish eating the chicken, noting he hadn’t touched the salad. She picked up the fork which rested on her plate and reached over to spear a large tomato with her fork, yipping as the seeds and juice squirted over her guest.

“God, I’m so sorry!” She leapt up and began patting his bare chest with her napkin. Oh, my god, what a chest!

He had skin like those alabaster statues she’d seen when she’d last been in Rome, a Greek god. She wasn’t overly fond of the long, sandy brown hair, but the chest, she could stare at for some time. Yeah, alright, she could stare at him forever, she admitted to herself.

The man caught her hands and the napkin dropped onto his crotch. They both stared at it for a few moments and she resisted the urge to pick it up, beginning to get flustered as he released her, she felt herself flush the brightest red before looking at the man before to her.

Hers met soulful and longing eyes as they glanced up at her.

She regained some composure “So, uh, now we’ve eaten, do you wanna tell a girl what you’re doing here? Be truthful, I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“You got any booze, love?” he asked cheekily.

“Uh, maybe? Mom has a bottle of vodka she keeps for emergencies.”

“Perfect.” He said hopefully, watching as she fetched some tumblers he recognized as belonging to Lizzie’s family. How they’d fared so long he wasn’t sure but they were comforting to see and it’d been so long since he’d had a drink he could almost taste it.

There was a loud thump from above as Buffy moved back to the table. She trembled, her grip loosening. One of the glasses fell and hit Spike’s quick hand with a light thud. Buffy managed to keep a hold on the other and the bottle of Vodka under her arm.

“Oh, yeah. Them.” He said, reminded of the other inhabitants, like he could ever forget. He’d forgotten about them while gazing at the beauty who stood before him and was pouring them both a large drink from the bottle, of which she’d then placed on the table with unsteady fingers.

“Y-You know about the weirdness? We were terrified last night, I-I don’t remember much but I was in the pub and then I woke up at the top of the stairs.” She said cagily.

“This house isn’t what you think, pet, its…”

They both froze as a roar erupted from above and Buffy jumped into Spike’s lap, clutching on to him for dear life.

“Don’t leave her!” Spike heard Grace shriek in his ear. “Whatever happens, William, please don’t leave her alone!”

Buffy and Spike stared at the ceiling as Buffy clutched his shoulders in terror before burying her head in his neck as she sobbed and begged for it to stop. “Please, please don’t leave me!” She cried out as the noise consumed them both.

The kitchen pipes rattled, filling the sink to its brim with fast running water, splashing over onto the floor as the cupboard doors banged open and closed in the kitchen of their own accord.

“Never.” He whispered next to her ear and then lifted his head and yelled toward the ceiling, “Stop it, you fuckers! Just fuckin’ stop!”

There was silence apart from a low whimpering babble from Buffy.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We left Buffy and Spike clutching each other in terror in the kitchen as they were tormented by the spirits. Grace (Buffy's spirit Grandmother) warned Spike to keep Buffy safe and he is nothing if not a protector in this story. Enjoy.

**1959**

“I don’t know why you’re even out o’ bed, pet, I can make your bloody breakfast” He said as Lizzie moved with tiny steps, her exhaustion from her terminal illness clear in the way she moved.

“William, it might be the last time I can do this, don’t you tell me I can’t! I want to stand in my own blimmin’ kitchen and make my own soddin’ omelet!” She yelled, her well-mannered voice using her best curses, all learned from the man who lingered in the background throughout her life, the person who’d always been there for her, whatever the cost to him.

Spike gave a wan smile, he knew his friend wasn’t long for this life and he would indulge her for now. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing the only person who’d never treated him like a monster but he knew there was only one thing for sure in a human’s life, death and taxes. Lizzie had always bloody paid her taxes, silly bint.

“Christ, pet, I only bloody asked!” he said back in mock anger, a smirk curling his lips.

“Hmm.” She acquiesced and continued to poke the eggs with the spatula using an energy she didn’t possess.

He hovered behind her almost awaiting something bad to happen as he sensed beading sweat upon her clammy skin. He wasn’t wrong as she began to swoon, her breath accelerating as she passed out, caught by the speedy movements of her vampire companion.

Taking her to her childhood bed in the nursery, he spent precious time lying beside her, one arm over her head as he detected a slight rattling in her chest which signified the end was close. He’d wanted to call her an ambulance so many times over the past months but obeyed her wishes for a good death, an end which involved no pain, no fiddling with by doctors or a passing in a stark, clinical ward, alone. She wanted to be home when the conclusion to the circle of her life happened, in the place she had met her best friend in the world all those years before. She was afraid her passing would be interrupted by the others but he’d assured her he’d protect her until she crossed to the other side, until her loved one’s met her and took her on to pastures new.

“Spike?” She said drowsily as the drip he’d plugged back into her cannula streamed its morphine into her system.

“M’ here, pet, always here for you.”

“It’s time, isn’t it?” She breathed with a wince, her eyes closing.

“Yeah, pet, reckon so.” He replied with a heavy heart and her warm hand in his cool one as he pulled it to his lips and kissed it gently.

“You promise me y…” she winced in pain. “You promise, you’ll stay in th…the room, you’ll do as I s-say.”

“Pet, please, I can’t stay in that room forever, we’ve had this conversation a million times over.”

Lizzie steeled her fists and blurted out. “I can’t leave you without knowing you’ll do as I ask, to protect yourself, to keep yourself safe!” She yelped, her frail hand gripping his so weakly, it felt like a butterfly caressing his skin.

“Hush, now, ‘ll do as you say. The witch has cast the protection spell, hasn’t she? ‘ll be fine n’ dandy here love. Don’ you worry ‘about ole Spike.”

“Promise me.”

“Lizzie, sweet, I promise.” He said, kissing her forehead tenderly.

“Say the last rights, do as I asked,” She mumbled, reminding him of his promise.

He closed his eyes and said the dreaded words, aware that him saying those very words might condemn her to hell. Even knowing it would be a soulless vampire uttering those words, she’d insisted, she’d told him he must have them and he was the only one she trusted to say them.

"Through this holy anointing may the Lord in his love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit. May the Lord who frees you from sin save you and raise you up." He repeated, his oath to her true as his voice broke.

“Goodbye, my Spike.” He heard a whisper as the medication levelled out her breathing.

“Goodbye, my lovely Lizzie.” He soothed her brow, his fingers comforting her.

In all the time, he’d been a vampire while draining his victims, he never truly understood what it was to lose someone, not really. He never understood what happened when all of those families buried someone important to them. His mother had died a few years after his last contact with her. He glanced at the scar of the St. Michael’s medal on his palm as Lizzie left him.

He’d never visited his mother’s grave, never had the chance to be there for her like this at the end. The two friends had admitted things to each other over the years they could never tell anyone else and Lizzie had cried alongside him when he told her what had happened with his mother, how she’d banished him, how he’d wanted to make her one of the un-dead and she’d refused by embracing her religion, her protector.

Lizzie’s greatest reminder of his mother had been the day she’d had the stained-glass window of St Michael the Archangel placed at the top of the stairs in the house. The window had been a painful, yet exquisite reminder of their friendship. A protector who could beat back the malevolent spirits and for many years’ calm had ensued throughout the house.

Now, it was time to do as they’d agreed, while the pain was bearable for his friend, he took the morphine and injected it into the saline solution, sending an amount of the drug into her system which she would never recover from, its swirling liquid taking form and amalgamating with the fluid.

With her final gasp and look of peace, he wondered if he would ever recover from her loss.

He truly knew he was alone again as he tried to ignore the chorus of wailing cheers and shrieks which ripped through the house as the others banged and crashed with no respect for the recently dead. He only hoped she had passed into some blinding light before heading to people who cared for her. His Lizzie was the best of people and she deserved a good passing.

As Lizzie instructed, he waited ten minutes before calling ‘999’ to report her death. She’d told him it would take thirty minutes for the emergency services to arrive and that during that time he should make himself invisible. Making the most of this time, he protectively edged closer to Lizzie’s cooling body, enclosing his arm over her stomach, placing his face in her hair and breathing her in one last time before finally allowing his tears to flow.

It was almost as though the others had waited for his friend’s soul to fully pass before they began a tirade of banging and clattering roars throughout the house.

Unable to stay any longer, Spike kissed her forehead gently before running from the room, clutching his hands over his ears, almost driven into madness by the noise.  Unable to cope with the very recent loss of his only friend and the onslaught from the house’s supernatural residents, he slammed closed the door to his own room in the attic and sobbed in the darkness as the knocking and banging erupted relentlessly within the place he called home but only because his Lizzie had been there. At any other time, it was his prison, place of his incarceration and with her gone it would become that again.

Then came silence.

It seemed like an hour had passed as he saw red and blue hues of light from the emergency services flickering over the tiny gap in the upper window to his room. Once the eruption of noise and whooping laughter stopped, Spike fell into an exhausted sleep in the confines of the room his best friend had ensured was his one place of safety and he thanked her for it with every fiber of his being. 

…

**1606**

“Just get on with it lazy britches, time is bloody money!” Arthur, the master stone mason, the best in four counties, barked as the he watched their youngest laborer haul a large lump of stone almost twice his size up the rickety wooden ladder towards the roof of the house they had almost completed.

It was a harsh and unforgiving place to have to build, but the miles they had to travel with their heavy dray horses and good Yorkshire stone were worth it for the pay the new Master offered. The man insisted on being called ‘The Master’ and always hid his face under a dark, hooded cloak when he came for payment or to talk of the house which was to be built. Arthur was afraid of the man and rode the apprentices hard to ensure the speediest of completion on the house. He’d always felt there was something off here and he’d spoken to a few of the local townswomen who had all but begged him not to go to the place, telling him of a plague pit and the undead who’d committed crimes against them. Arthur always felt like he was being watched while they worked and desperately wanted to finish this job.

The older apprentices jeered as the seven-year-old wobbled on the ladder.

“Yeaaah, Tommy boy, come on! Your mother’s tits are bigger than that bit o’ slab, get on with it you wimp!”

“Hark, lad, I’nt that the sound of your mother callin’ in her next punter?” They laughed, slapping each-others backs in mirth as the small boy let out a sob, the load strapped to his back wobbling as he lost momentum.

His wide brown eyes were described as dark coals in a face of purest white by the older lads later on when the poor boy gave them a look of terror as the rung of the ladder snapped and he fell twenty feet to the ground, his back breaking on the slab below.

…

The young boy stood before the brightest light he’d ever seen, a light which drew him to it like nothing he’d ever experienced in his short life.

“Toommmy.” A voice echoed in the darkness surrounding the effervescent glow. “Tommy, you’re one of us now. Don’t follow the light, stay here with us, we’ll care for you better than anyone out there has ever cared for you, we love you, we want you.” The kindly voice continued, “Stay here, this is where you belong, this is your place.” The murmuring voice insisted.

Tommy hesitated, he wasn’t sure where he was but he knew he was here because there had been a terrible accident and he’d never see his mother again.

He was alone and he understood he must decide which path to take.

Looking towards the light and hearing no-one invite him to join them, his decision was made easy. He felt a cool hand soothe his head, another hand lay itself upon his shoulder. He took a step back away from the serene luminosity and turned. This was all it took for him to be grasped by the monsters and sucked into the darkness. The young boy screamed as he was dragged away from the radiant glow, his hand held out attempting to grasp it as it blew away like a wisp on the wind.

…

**Present Day**

The extreme and intimidating racket stopped, almost as soon as it began.

Spike could never be sure whether it had stopped because he’d yelled for it to stop or because the others were holding back, waiting until they could terrify Buffy more.

Buffy trembled in his arms, almost as if she was attempting to burrow inside him, he, a stranger, offered solace in this world of madness.

His experiences had got to the point where the wankers could pop up occasionally and remind him they were there but he tried not to give a shit. Now Buffy was here, he wasn’t so sure what they were truly capable of, especially since Buffy had suffered a few run ins with them in her time in the house, knowingly or unknowingly.

Grace.

Oh, fuck, Buffy’s dead grandmother had sounded terrified when she asked him to take care of Buffy. What had those wankers done to her to make the elder sprit feel so petrified? He tried to remain calm, Buffy wasn’t aware of her follower and he didn’t want to be the person who revealed who she was but he felt he had no choice.

“Buffy,” he said as he clutched her fingers in his, “Buffy, please, love, I have to tell you something.”

Buffy whimpered and snuggled herself closer, her nose almost in the pit of his arm in fear.

“Please don’t,” her muffled voice yelped, “I just want to go to bed, I just need to sleep.” She shuddered. “Please don’t leave me with them.” She lifted her head and looked him in the eye. “Can you just stay with me tonight, stay in my room to keep me safe?” Her lip wobbled as she clenched her hands the fabric on his upper arms in panic, she was terrified. He remembered that feeling, he’d felt it more than once in this house of the bloody devil.

Spike couldn’t control his look of shock as she wove her arms around his neck and clung onto him for dear life. “Err, y-yeah, pet, o’ course, ‘ll do as you ask.”

“Can we have hot chocolate? With those little marshmallows?” She said hopefully, her warm and enticing breath caressing his neck as her heart thudded the rhythm of life.

He could feel every flutter and the pulsation of blood move through each and every point in her body, its crimson stream running like an underground river, so close he could just lean into her and take her so quickly she’d never know a thing.

Get back you bastard! He cautioned his demon. The demon shrank back, wounded by his reprimand.

Closing his eyes tightly he bit his lip almost drawing blood. Eventually, somewhat recovered, he managed to say lowly, “It would be my pleasure, sweet, but you’ll have to let me go if you want me to make your drink for you.” He said, attempting not to nuzzle into her hair, rip a clump of it back in his fist and sink his fangs into her throat. There were half-moons imprinted by his fingernails in the palm of his hands.

“OK.” She said with a rush of breath and released her hold on him, watching his every move as he went about the business of making a cup of chocolatey goodness.

Buffy didn’t even question the fact he didn’t ask where anything was, he just seemed to know.

…

**Present Day**

“Oh, give over, Kyle, what do you want me to say, lad? Yes, alright, the elder villagers have warned me of evil down in Dead Man’s Reach but those are just old wives tales. The house you’re taking about was built on the site of an old plague pit, I gather from what they’ve said. I’ve gotta say, lad, there’s more evil walking the streets killing people with blades and guns than there is out in’t middle of nowhere terrorizing housekeepers an’ young lasses in the night.” Father Michael said lowly as he lit the candles for the evening mass. “You kids are letting your imaginations run away with you.” He turned to Kyle and looked at him pointedly. “You weren’t smokin’ any o’ that wacky baccy were you? Is that what’s causing you to chunter on like this?” He said with a knowing look.

Dead Man’s Reach. So, that’s what the valley was called where the house was built? Kyle thought following the priest’s revelation. It didn’t calm him, it just made him all the more concerned for Buffy, who was there alone.

“Look, Father, I wouldn’t blimmin’ be here if I didn’t think this family needed owt’ from you. I was there an’ no! There were no shenanigans. Pip here’s bin workin’ for them an’ she saw somethin’ evil a’ ‘tend of her bed, Christ, she wouldn’t lie about somethin’ like that!” Kyle demanded.

Father Michael raised an eyebrow with a small smile curling his lips. “You do know where you are lad? An’ the amount of hail Mary’s it’ll take at confession for blaspheming in the lord’s house?”

Kyle nodded and lamented the time spent away from church recently, too many late Saturday nights at the pub had rendered him incapable of accompanying his mother on a Sunday and he felt guilty about it. “Look, Father, I’ve not been to church on Sunday for a few months but that doesn’t mean I don’t know when someone’s soul is in peril. ’M tellin’ you, those women’s mortal souls are in danger from whatever is in that house! Tell me you’ll just allow that to ‘appen in your parish?” Kyle hissed, a little more disrespectfully than he should have to the man he had the greatest of esteem for. Father Michael had been his priest as long as he could remember and had been there for he and his mother when his father had died many years before. Kyle not going to church was like not wanting to see his oldest friend. He’d left Piper outside and told her he wouldn’t be long but he gathered Father Michael wouldn’t make things easy and it was going to take longer than he thought to convince the clergyman that what he was telling him was true.

There was a creak as the door at the back of the church opened and the parishioners began to fill the pews. Father Michael bit back whatever else was going to say about Kyle’s manner. “Alright, lad, I’ll go and visit your ladies up at the house tomorrow but I don’t expect to be welcomed, no-one likes a religious type turning up on the doorstep, uninvited.” He held out a hand to the younger man.

Kyle clasped the priest’s hand, shaking it and nodding his thanks before taking his seat for the evening mass, it had been far too long and after last night he needed to feel like someone was looking out for him and the others. He knew his Pip waited outside for him but she would understand that he needed to seek guidance on the strange scenario which had befallen them.

Someone had to.  


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all Spuffy, I wanted to show their relationship developing and I've dedicated a whole chapter to it. This doesn't mean we wont be finding out more about the house and its inhabitants in the next chapter.

** Present day **

Spike watched Buffy struggle to keep her eyes open. The bird was dead on her feet and he knew she needed her bed. Like him, she’d only caught a few hours’ sleep the previous night, what with the bastard scourge’s shenanigans and their earlier intimidating appearance. The hefty shot of adrenalin which had blazed through her system had long subsided and the following crash of exhaustion had overtaken her. 

He’d washed the dishes and tidied the kitchen before moving silently to stand before the girl. He hesitated with one hand above her head as she lay with her head cradled on her crossed arms upon the table before her. Not sure whether to touch her and deciding against it he clenched his fist and dropped it to his side. 

Instead he cleared his throat. “Pet? Err, Buffy?” He said gently.

“Hmm?” She said tiredly.

“If you want to go up to bed now I can follow, err, an’ stay outside your room to keep an eye out for any o’ the nasties?”

Her head shot up, “Y-you’re not staying in the room with me?” She said fearfully.

“Err, well, I, err, can do anythin’ you want, pet, ‘s just I didn’t think you’d want someone you hardly know sleepin’ in the same room with you, is all.”

“Please don’t leave me alone.” She pleaded, “What if they come back? They could come from anywhere and you might not see them from outside.” 

Spike sensed her heart rate rising and smelled the salty tang of tears as she rose and stood before him, her green eyes shone and flicked rapidly from side to side as she tried to read his thoughts. 

His face softened unable to help himself as he reached out and caressed her cheek with his fingertips. “’S alright, pet, I’ll stay with you, keep you safe.”

She visibly relaxed and allowed him to lead her by the hand towards the stairs. They both jumped as an antique vase fell from its marble plinth, crashing to the wooden floor and splintering into smithereens. Spike clutched Buffy’s hand tighter and pulled her towards the stairs. “Best get up there to the room, those wankers won’t give us any peace here.”

Buffy was confused, she had no idea what a wanker was or why her room may be safer than anywhere else in the house. It made sense, she supposed, nothing had actually come into her room and so far, she always felt safer there. Even last night while the spirits swept through the house freely scaring the bejesus out of its residents, she hadn’t felt them try to enter the room where they huddled, only rattling on the doors and walls. The nursery felt like a port in a storm, their salvation while all other parts of the house seeped evil, its black pestilence infectious and poisonous as shadows crept the halls. Buffy shuddered as she remembered it’s cold, daring touch the previous night under the stained-glass window, this thing had manifested itself enough to actually graze her skin, to make an attempt to pull her away by her ankle. Her attempt to bury the abject terror she had felt at that moment now proved fruitless, she couldn’t hold it within and it had escaped, feeding her fear to the point she wondered if she might not just scream the place down in horror.  Where did they want to take her and why? What did they want from her? She gulped back that scream by closing her eyes tightly and allowing herself to be led by the pretty man with the cool hands. 

Such as things were within the house, she barely noticed how his skin was not quite as warm as other humans and if she had, she may have put it down to the fact he had been trapped in this house for so long and lacked vitamin D with no sunshine to warm his bones. In her heart, she realized she knew he wasn’t human, who could survive such a long confinement and still look like a young man? How had he lived if he couldn’t leave? And what had he lived on? There hadn’t been a scrap of food in the house when she and her mother arrived. He wasn’t a ghost, or one of her tormentors, she was fairly sure of that, but what else could he be if not human?

Her fatigued brain came eventually to the realization that she didn’t know his name. She was allowing a man to lead her to her bedroom who she’d known barely hours and all because she was afraid. What if he was an axe murderer? Or serial killer? Her mother didn’t know she wasn’t alone, would she come home to a scene from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre? This man could spin her any tale of his past and she would have to believe him as she had no way to check whether he was telling the truth. She was trusting him to watch over her while she slept but what if she never woke up? What if he murdered her and rolled her up in a rug to dispose of her or put her in a bath of lye to dissolve the evidence like they did in those nasty horror movies? She made a mental note to stop watching them and only watch movies with big fluffy bunnies or cute puppies, it seemed far safer for her sanity that way.

He waited outside while she switched on her bedside lamp before changing into her sleep shorts and tank with the small butterflies on, a gift from her mother on their last trip. She jumped under the covers and pulled them up to her neck. “Uh, you can come in now.” She called out to her sentry, watching as he opened the door and ran his hand through his hair nervously. He looked up at her from under his lashes as he came to a halt after closing the door behind him, before turning his attention to the tiniest child’s chair in the corner and then to the threadbare rug beside Buffy’s bed. 

“Hmm, what a choice, either that diabolical old torture device, the comfy chair, in miniature I hasten to add, or the threadbare Persian rug circa nineteen fifty. All the comforts of home.” He grinned, overcoming his nervousness and making himself as comfortable as possible as he sat on the floor next to her bed.

The man chuckled. He had a gorgeous, cheeky smile, a kind and strikingly handsome face, she itched to reach out and trace the strong lines of his face, to thumb his cheekbones and test those firm, plump lips with her fingertips. She found her stomach clenching at the thought of him being so close to her again while she slept. The memory of his breath caressing the back of her neck in his attic room swam into her mind and she berated herself for having thoughts about a man she didn’t know well enough to address by his actual moniker. She wanted to know his name but it felt too awkward to ask now. It was like when you met someone you knew but couldn’t remember their name for all the tea in China, spending the whole conversation avoiding having to mention it.

Almost in autopilot, she passed him a pillow and the knitted throw from the end of her bed and watched as he smirked and plumped up the pillow before laying and adjusting the blanket over the lower half of his body. Buffy blushed as he propped his hands behind his head and his linen shirt fell open, revealing the muscular planes of his chest and defined torso. She wasn’t sure where the shirt came from but it gave him a look of Mr Darcy from that movie she saw, what was it? She wondered, distracted and curious to know what his chest would look like sopping wet…

“You want to keep the light on, love?” he said, raising an eyebrow, startling her out of the daydream she’d been in.

“Uh, I…”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” he affirmed, closing his eyes like he was ready to sleep regardless.

“I suppose not, I’m not sure if seeing them in their metaphysical glory would be worse than having them creep up on me in the dark.”

“They won’t come in here.” He stated, opening his eyes as he heard the springs squeaking as she shifted on the bed.

“How do you know?” She moved to hang over the side of the bed, kicking the covers off as she strove to look at his face.

“Trust me, pet, this room is the Fort Knox of the spirit world, as was my room until, err, recently. Used to belong to a friend o’ mine.” He informed her, attempting to avoid staring at the creamy skin of her breasts flattened against the edge of the bed and watched as her golden blonde mane fell over one shoulder, revealing her throbbing pulse point. He couldn’t help but lick his lips.

Her eyes widened at the sweep of his lengthy tongue and she gulped visibly. It suddenly felt to Buffy like the air was filled with electricity and she found it a little hard to breathe. His blue eyes glittered like polished sapphire. “Who are you? I-I don’t even know your name.” She sat back suddenly and pulled the covers over herself again, not quite sure she wanted to know the answer to her own question especially if she found out he was some figment of her imagination or she was chatting amiably with some spectre who could manifest as corporeal.

Spike sensed her fear. He never wanted her to be afraid of him, he wasn’t there to harm her but she knew so little of him she had begun to form her own conclusions without allowing him to explain. He guessed she had decided having him here with her may not have been the best idea she’d ever had once she realised there was something he wasn’t telling her. Christ, it wasn’t like he hadn’t tried.

He watched as she looked to the door and could almost hear the cogs in her brain turning as she made the decision whether it was better being in here with him or out there with them, the others.

Sitting up slowly so as not to startle her he held his hands out, palms up, a sign of submission to show her he meant no harm. She looked up startled as he said, “Buffy, I don’t want to scare you, pet, I’m only here to help, nothing more, you can trust me.”

Alarm bells went off in her brain. She hadn’t told him her name; how did he know her name? She reached her hand to take out a screwdriver she’d left on her dresser while hanging a picture her room.

“Whoa, pet, wot’s all this about?” he said easing himself up, his movements minimized so as not to cause any further distress to the girl holding the sharp implement. 

“How do you know my name? I didn’t tell you my name!” She demanded.

He ran his hand through his long wavy locks, not entirely sure how to answer her. “Well, err, that’s kind of a long story an’ I’m not sure you’re ready to hear it just before bed an’ all.” He said, attempting to pacify her. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m all ears. Tell me your name, right this minute or I’ll scream!” She said, forgetting she was in the middle of nowhere and help thirty minutes away. She was clutching the tool in her hand so tightly her knuckles had gone white and poked it towards him again as if to reinforce the fact she would stab him if he didn’t tell.

“God, forbid you scream, woman.” He tutted with sarcasm, truthfully, he was too tired to deal with a hysterical girl right now.

She opened her mouth wide.

“Alright! Alright! Bloody hell, I’ll tell you, jus’ don’t go bursting my soddin’ eardrums first!” He was already at the end of his tether but this took the biscuit, she chose now to become the right nosey Miss Bleedin’ Marple. 

The tension was tangible between the two as Buffy urged him to continue by pointing the metal of the screwdriver closer to his stomach. Little did she know that she was pointing at the wrong part of his body with the wrong type of weaponry. 

“Put the screwdriver down love, it can’t hurt me.” He said in a graveled voice, unable to keep his eyes from glancing at her heaving chest.

“I won’t! Not until you tell me who you are!” She yelled, “Or tell me what you are!”

“For Christ sake, pet, I already tried to have this conversation with you, you didn’t want it.” He said stepping forward until the sharp edge of the tool grazed his lower abs. “Is this what you want?” He edged closer, “Do you want to kill the only person who can help you? Is that it, love?”

“Don’t call me love, I’m not your love!” She said through gritted teeth, “You could be one of them! You could be Hannibal frickin’ Lecter!”

Spike couldn’t help but chuckle at that, perhaps he may have been if he’d spent another hundred years with Angelus, who knew what sick and depraved things he would have been capable of alongside the elder vampire if he’d remained part of their group and not been ousted? He’d had a century to lament twenty years of insidious acts alongside them and he wasn’t quite sure that had been enough. Not when he’d felt needed and wanted by Lizzie and when he realized he had now found sunshine in its purest form, she stood here before him, full of wrathful indignation and she was glorious. 

“’M no saint, pet,” he began, “’M not a man either, well, maybe not in the true sense.” He said, needing her to understand but unsure how best to tell her the truth of him. It had been easier with Lizzie, she had been a child and had accepted him easily. “My heart doesn’t beat, it hasn’t for over one hundred years.” He told her, watching as she flinched, her eyes becoming wider as she took in what he had said. “A century ago, I would’ve taken you with cock an’ fangs and never thought twice ‘bout it, I’d have drained every last drop o’ your sweet, hot, life giving blood an’ left your corpse in a dirty alley for the street sweepers to find come mornin’” 

He watched her panic, her eyes zoning back on the door to her escape. He had to be honest but he also had to keep her there, safe. 

Buffy gulped constantly for a minute, her eyes filling with tears as she attempted to make sense of it all. His voice seemed to shake her away from the direction her internal thoughts had taken as he continued. “But that’s not what I am now. I’ve been given a chance at redemption an’ a chance to leave that all behind. I,” he paused, “I fell in love with a woman, a vampire, who promised me the world an’ I had it taken from me by her sire,” he closed his hand over Buffy’s upon the instrument she held as if her life depended on it, “I’m not the same as I was then, don’t you think if I was, I could’ve hurt you already? Your mum? your friends? Taken you all without a care?”

“Y-you’re a vampire?” She stuttered in response, holding steady like a coiled spring, she could easily have plunged the driver into his body but it seemed curiosity had overtaken fear along with fight rather than flight. 

“For my sins, pet, an’ certainly not an effective one. I’ve been trapped in a house with no food apart from rats for decades an’ when someone finally comes along I decide to guard ‘em rather than eat ‘em.” He chuckled. Noticing her look of displeasure, he carried on, “Err, I mean, fuck, Buffy, I would never hurt you, ‘s not who I am now. The best friend I ever had died in this room and I was here with her right ‘til the end, she went to the light and I bloody made sure of it. My Lizzie was…” He paused, feeling tears prickle behind his eyes as he remembered her, she would know what to do, what to say to Buffy to help her understand. He cleared his throat. “Lizzie wanted this for me, she wanted me to find a companion, someone who would accept me as she did, she didn’t want to leave me with the others.”

Once Spike began to talk, Buffy had lowered the tool held at his chest along with her guard and stared at him as he sat tentatively on the edge of her bed, still talking, resting his head in his hands as he honestly told the story of his existence within the house and his friendship with the only air to the Beaumont fortune.

Buffy went from being totally petrified to feeling such compassion towards the vampire she felt almost taken in by him. Her stomach clenched as he sobbed into his hands over the loss of his friend. No! No, she couldn’t be fooled, she couldn’t be sure of him, it was all just words, lip service and it couldn’t be anything else. He was a killer and he could drain her of her blood! He could kill her mother and anyone else who entered the house. She lifted the tool again and moved towards him, her whole body taught as she lifted the screwdriver over her head, gasping as he lifted his head to consider her eyes. She almost felt herself drowning in those deep blue pools.

Spike took out the wooden stake he carried with him in his waistband always. Things had become so very dire at times he’d ferried the one thing which could kill him around with him for years but had never had the courage to use it on himself.

He held the stake out, his fingers shaking, barely, he was resolved.

“Do it! Just bloody do it! Don’t you think I’ve spent years dreaming of this day? Dreaming of the moment this would all end? If you stake me in the heart this will be over! I’ve been so soddin’ pathetic I couldn’t do it myself so why don’t you just get it over with? Dust me, Buffy, just bloody end it, right here, right now!” He yelled with tears streaming down his face.

Buffy hesitated and dropped her tool to the floor before taking the offered stake. The wood felt smooth and cool like his touch as she caressed it with her thumb. 

"You have to hit me right here, Buffy, right in the heart." he said closing his eyes tightly, expecting her to do as he said.

His face was so pitiable she didn’t know what to do.

“I can’t kill someone when I don’t know their damn name.” She uttered.

“S’ Spike, s’ William, I don’t know who I am anymore.” He sobbed as she moved forwards, taking pity on him and sliding her arms around his shoulders, taking his head to her breast and dropping the stake with a plop on the bed behind him.

“I’m sorry for what has happened to you, Spike.” She breathed, choosing the name Spike over William without thought as she dropped to her knees before him and took his head in her hands, his face inches away from her own.

Buffy moved to chastely kiss away his tears but found him capturing her face in his larger hands. She gasped as he pulled her softer body flush against his hard chest.

The last words she heard above her hammering heart were “Buffy, oh, fuck, Buffy…”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The UST of Spike and Buffy spending the night in the same room continues in this chapter, along with some further insight into Grace, Tommy and the others, Brrr!

**Present Day**

It had happened so quickly she barely had time to draw breath. Buffy found herself trapped under the lithe, hard body of the man who’d admitted to her so recently that he was a vampire. Upon the single bed in her room, she gasped for breath as he straddled her legs and the feeling of the rough denim of his worn jeans against her outer thighs caused sparks of lust to hum through her body and her nipples hardened under the soft cotton of her tank. She blushed as he held himself above her, his arms fisting the coverlet on the bed above her shoulders as he watched her with a look of abject hunger and desperation upon his face.

“Buffy,” he let out with a rush of breath, “God, I, can’t help myself…fuck, I want you so much.” He looked like he was in pain, like a battle was being waged behind his gorgeous face as he pursed his lips tightly.

Unsure of what exactly he wanted of her, Buffy remained still, resisting the urge to reach forth and touch him. Her chest rose and fell with short, hurried breaths as she found her eyes mirrored with cerulean blues, peppered with sparkling with golden hues. She couldn’t help but take in their beauty and any will she had to escape him crumbled at his close proximity. Whoever or whatever he was he was so very…male. His scent intoxicating as she felt the sudden urge to bury her nose in his chest and just breathe him in. His lengthy hair tickled her breast bone as it hung over his shoulder.

Buffy knew she should be afraid and that things had taken a massive and unexpected turn within seconds. One minute she was holding a wooden stake to his heart, the next he had trapped her like the big bad wolf, she almost let out a nervous giggle as her mind dredged up a memory of the story being read by her mother as a child, ‘My, what big teeth you have grandma’. The fear that he could kill her and take her right there was but a distant memory as was everything else, her mom, the others, this house, her friends, the world, all lost in a cloud of lustful hormones. This man before her felt like passion incarnate and she found every part of her being echoing with his every tiny movement.

There was only him and his commanding presence, his body trembling above her as he panted. She guessed she would only have to give him a nod or some indication she would submit and he would devour her like meal she’d made him earlier and she found herself wanting it, unabashed, needing him to take her like he’d said before. Was this what they spoke of in the Vampire movies? Was this thrall? Where the busty female lead was lured from her bed by the dastardly Dracula against her will.

_“A century ago, I would’ve taken you with cock an’ fangs and never thought twice ‘bout it.”_

A memory of Josh flittered into her mind, his hands in her pants as he fumbled around, always missing any erogenous zones which may have given her even a small amount of satisfaction. Josh got himself off every time by rubbing himself against her, or enjoying a hand job and, boy, was that annoying when he couldn’t even find her clit. More often than not, she couldn’t even be bothered to get herself off when she got home and found herself dropping off to sleep from boredom. Eighteen years old and no man had ever gotten her off, she felt pitiful.

But then, there had never been a guy in her life who’d made her feel like Spike just had, with only one heated look. She felt like she might just spontaneously combust from his presence alone. Spike would know what to do with a woman, she was sure of it and she doubted he would care that she was still a virgin.

The moment seemed to last forever, neither moving until Spike blinked and pulled away from her in horror. “Shit! ‘M sorry, love, I just, just. I wouldn’t hurt you, I promise. ‘S just bin a long time since ‘ve bin so close to a human.”

The springs creaked as he distanced himself from her and she was left on the bed, confused as he quickly moved back to his place on the floor. Somehow, she wondered whether having him take her in the way he’d said was preferable to feeling the way she did now, like her libido had been unleashed and was desperate for some relief. With the vampire sleeping beside her there was no way to satiate those feelings so she moved to pull the covers around herself, ensuring she didn’t meet his eye and sure she was pouting. She sighed and fluffed her pillows countless times before attempting to sleep.

She lay with her eyes closed but her mind in a whir. Out of everything that had happened that day, trying to sleep while highly aroused seemed to be the one thing that sucked more than anything else.

**Present Day, One hour earlier, elsewhere in the house**

"You dare come to this house and demand such things of us old woman! We will never leave the vampire alone! His kin trapped us here in this house. The Master may not be here to pay his debt to us but the young vampire is and pay he shall! We will torture him for eternity!" The voice resonated across the room, encasing the lesser spirits and demanding their submission. “We are darkness, we are every deadly torment you ever imagined, we…”

Grace waved a hand to silence the entity, having heard enough of it spewing its inane verbal diarrhoea. She had reason to fear its intensions against her granddaughter and her protector but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t treat it like the naughty child it was. She had enough experience of dealing with the spirit world during her life and after her death to understand how they ticked. “Enough of your babble, evil, yes, wicked, perhaps, darn stupid if you can’t remember why you do as you do all these years later! I’ve heard it all before. Just answer the damn question! Who are you and why do you remain in this house?”

The entity began to laugh, the strangest form of depraved laughter, like many laughing at once. It didn’t answer her question.

Tommy whimpered as he hid behind Grace "Please don't let them hurt me." He begged, his incorporeal hand hugging her hip as he hid his face in her funeral suit, a smart black skirt which had been purchased from Macey’s and matching jacket alongside polished black pumps, her hair tied in a sophisticated bun at nape of her neck. She always thanked her lucky stars that she hadn’t been run over by a bus, what state would she have spent her eternity in then? She shuddered to think.

"Hush child, all will be well." she said gently, pushing him behind her before facing off the large black mass which undulated before her, its tentacles spreading over the wall to the attic like a terrifying blight. The moment she had first faced off this malignance she had felt it drawing her in, like a white dwarf star getting sucked into a black hole. She could allow it, to find out more about it but she knew she would then become something else entirely. She knew she had been a good person while she lived, strove to remain uncorrupted by the things she saw on the other side of the veil, but if she tumbled into the dark? Well, then there was no guarantee her light would save her, she would become one of ‘them’ the ‘others’ and this terrified her more than facing off what lay before her in this attic room.

“I tried to make him notice me, the man, the vampire. I tried to ask him for help for so many years but he could never see me and they said they would hurt me more if I did! I want my mum.” Tommy sobbed.

“And you will have your mother dearest, you will, but for now I have something I need to do, you must go back to your hiding place, sweetest one, I have a way to travel but I will return by tomorrow.” Grace soothed as she thought of her only daughter. ” First, we must warn Spike of the intensions of this foul presence, warn him to keep Buffy safe. She must avoid being sucked in to the dark, like you Tommy, she must not be tempted to seek out the others.”

Grace knew the only way to make Spike understand the danger was to appear afraid and fearful of the others intensions towards Buffy.

“I c-could show her where I hid all those years, they searched and searched for me but the nursery was beyond them, they n-never knew I was there, hiding in the cupboard. Even Miss. Buffy didn’t know,” he whispered, stifling a giggle,” she **ß** opened the door and looked right at me but didn’t see.”

Things were more alarming than Grace had originally thought. If Buffy had repressed her gift to the point she couldn’t see this sweet spirit living in her own closet then what hope was her of understanding why the others wanted her so badly. She was living flesh, she was sunlight, pure and good, Buffy was everything the others coveted and they would suck her soul dry if they could only capture her. The vampire was dead but he had an inner light of his own and he shouldn’t care like he did, he fought against his own nature to protect the people of this house. Little Tommy had spent hundreds of years watching the comings and goings of the house and he had told Grace of Lizzie and the other residents.

Grace had followed her granddaughter across the planet and never had she been filled with such fear for her soul. Her only daughter had been gone too long and needed to be reminded of why she shouldn’t leave her daughter alone.

**Present day, London.**

“Mike, you have been so kind to stay here. You’re sure your wife doesn’t mind? I could easily book into a hotel.”

“Joyce,” Mike Webber told the woman he’d been waiting an age to meet, she was famous in his world of work, as a buyer and connoisseur of antiques and curios. “She wouldn’t have it, she’s been longing to meet you, as have I, before the children were born she worked with me at the gallery and your reputation precedes you. Mary so rarely gets to talk about her passions. Anyway, she’s cooked her speciality, pasta Cacciatore. Shall we grab a bottle of wine and head on back?”

“Your wife sounds delightful, Mike, I should love you join you for dinner.” Joyce said as he patted her hand and headed into the parking lot behind the gallery.

As they walked the only street light in the car park began to flicker and Joyce squinted as it seemed to intensify and then flicker out altogether.

“Blimmin’ thing never works. I’ve asked our maintenance guy to look at that but I fear I’m wasting my breath.” Mike chuckled as he opened the car and walked around to Joyce’s door to open it for her in a gentlemanly manner.

Joyce felt a chill and wrapped her silk pashmina around herself tightly. She looked again to the far side of the car park where the light flickered and then beamed momentarily with a blinding light. Stumbling back, she could’ve sworn she saw…no, it couldn’t be possible, her mother had been dead for over eighteen years. She must be seeing things, perhaps she was just a little more tired than she thought? it had been an awfully long day.

“Joyce, are you quite alright?” Mike said, catching her elbow as she faltered.

“Yes, oh, I’m sorry Mike, I couldn’t see too well and I think I may have caught my heel.” She said shakily as he helped her into the passenger seat.

Joyce stared back to the place where she thought she’d seen her mother. The car park light had come back on and remained on. There was nothing there.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter may please a lot of readers and probably not for the reason you'd expect. Did any of you remember I mentioned a family who lived in the house in the 80's? The anaemic child? Who here thought it was because of Spike? Come on, be honest and lift your hand if you did.   
> All is explained in the next freakishly scary chapter.

**Present Day**

Lightning flashed through the room and a low rumble accompanied a smattering of rain which hammered against the window. The willowy net fluttered and flapped as the crafty wind made its way through the small gaps in a window long in need of repair. Buffy let out a whimper, followed by a cry in her sleep as the aging iron cracked on the catch and slammed the window open, causing a whirlwind of raging rain and wind to suck the curtain outside in its deadly undertow and a mighty roar. Her watcher and fully paid up member of the undead club, swiftly left his makeshift bed by her side and attempted to secure it, finding his hair and shirt lashed by rain as he finally managed to hold the fierce, Yorkshire elements at bay, the use of his vampiric strength helping him to only just manage to wedge the window shut without breaking the glass.

“Spike, was that them? Did they get in here somehow?” A tiny voice yelped, hidden to any who couldn’t see into the dark corner of the room.

The clatter of the window opening had distracted him and he hadn’t heard her get up and make her way to safety in the furthest spot away from the glass panes.

As if the others had sensed the dread of the girl within, there was a loud bang upon the door to the room, right beside where Buffy stood and she screamed, running to the other side of the room with the coverlet clutched up to her nose, as if hiding behind such a thing could provide safety from the peril which threatened to lift the hinges from the door and rush inside. The wooden entrance bowed at the now insistent hammering but it held sturdy, almost as if the inanimate object itself attempted to protect the solace within, as if it felt it was the last line of defense.

There was a roar of anger and the banging and pounding intensified to infinite proportions and then went quiet. Chuckling and sinister giggles replaced the noise as it subsided, echoing off into the distance.

Spike looked to Buffy, he wasn’t sure whether he should touch her, such was the petrified state she was in.

“What do they want? I know you know why they do this, Spike!” She sobbed, stepping back as he moved to touch her hand, his eyes clear and deepest blue as he tried to appease her.

“Please, pet.” He said, never once removing his eyes from hers as the lightning lit up the room time and time again, showcasing her fear to him absolutely as she clutched the coverlet in terror. “Please, ’m only here to help.”

“But you’re a vampire, an evil thing of darkness! How can you help me when we don’t know what they want?” She cried, holding up and trembling arm and pointing towards the door.

Another deafening roar of thunder rolled over the hillside at the front of the house, followed by an electrical bolt which shot to the core of an ancient apple tree out front, rendering it to fire and scalding what natural life lay within. Buffy turned to the window and watched the fire take hold as larger branches were consumed in the inferno and fell to the ground.

He lay his hand on her shoulder and she flinched, he lifted it an inch and then placed it back grasping her tightly and turning her to him. His body was almost flush with her own, the only separation the thin coverlet which she felt held some magical power of armor.

“’S alright, sweetheart, it’ll burn but we’re safe here. Hush now, get back into bed.”

She wanted to know more but she felt her legs give out and she slumped into his arms. This was all too much, she could no longer speak as terror had seized her vocal chords with no gentleness, its hand almost squeezing the breath from her.

“Come on now, Buffy, time to try ‘an get some kip, eh?” He soothed, leading her back to her bed by the hand, lifting and placing her gently, almost reverently onto the cool sheets and arranging the coverlet over her shivering body.

He checked the window and the door before moving to his place on the floor beside the bed. There was a gurgle from her throat as she struggled against the intense panic he knew she felt. “Hush, come on now, pet, get some sleep.” He reassured her, hoping she’d allow herself to try.

“Please, Spike, I can’t…I can’t sleep here alone. Would y-you…will you lay beside me, keep me safe?”

What an offer. An invitation to sleep alongside this golden haired, delightful creature, to feel her heat flow into his cold body, a body which hadn’t felt such warmth in years. It should’ve been a forgone conclusion that he’d say ‘yes’, ‘Of course’, ‘I’d love to’, but still he hesitated and ran his hand anxiously through his hair.

He stared at her for what felt like a lifetime, the poor exhausted girl with tear drops scattered across long, beautiful lashes as she stared up at him pitifully. He knew she could barely see him, the only light in the room was the occasional distant flash of lightning piecing the veil of darkness as the storm moved over to its next target, the city of York.

“Please help me, Spike, you can’t let them get me, please don’t let them get me.” She began to sob, her firmly ensconced in her hands.

The small bed creaked as he eased himself onto the bed beside her as he took her in his arms. He felt her warmth permeating his skin. “’ll never let anyone hurt you, love, promise.” He pledged, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead.

It was a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep but he made it just the same.

Sometime later he heard her breath even out as she drifted into an even sleep. The others had let them be for now and although he told himself he would keep watch that night, he soon too succumbed to sleep. Buffy’s head lay in the crook of his arm with the palm of her hand flat upon his chest where his heart had once been. Spike drifted off with his cheek on the crown of her head, breathing in the scents which were purely and irrevocably, her.

**1980**

“How the bloody hell did you get in here?” The startled vampire halted, standing before the back door with a glass of bourbon in hand. There were no more cut glass crystal tumblers, hot chilies or little children who adored him with the new residents, only modern glasses, polished with a slight curve. Luckily, the man of the house liked a drop of good Bourbon and had the odd bottle of Irish Whiskey. Another stroke of luck was they had their food delivered to the house, engaged a cook and a full time cleaner, alongside a nanny. This meant he could add a blood order to the shopping list and engage the delivery boy as he delivered before dawn on a Monday, making out he was the cook’s assistant. It meant hauling in the weekly shop including sacks of fruit and vegetables but no-one seemed to question it and Spike always ensured he wouldn’t be caught.

He sometimes hid in a cubbyhole in the wall behind the fireplace which he supposed may have once been a priest’s hole, all the while watching the kids of the house play on their basic computer and he was in awe of the wonders of modern technology. Spike had a go once in the dead of night but the soddin’ thing took too long to load and the tennis game was a little boring after a while. He often amused himself with a computerized toy called ‘Major Morgan’ which spelled out letters, and when pressed quickly, words, including the most disgusting of words, his favorite beginning with ‘c’ as he always thought of Angelus as he heard the robot voice relay it.

“Well now, my boyo, don’t you know who this house once belonged to? I’m sure we told you?”

No, they bloody, well hadn’t, which was most infuriating. “I don’t give a fuck who this house belonged to! I asked why you’re here? Come back to release me, have you?” Spike hissed, rearing forward and facing the elder vamp. At first his heart had soared with hope until he read his grandsires face, his wicked grin, and he knew Angelus wasn’t here for him at all, he was here to taunt him.

Angelus looked bored and leant back against the wall observing his fingernails.

“I was just passing and wondered what you’ve done with the old place,” he chuckled, “I thought you would’ve let yourself dust in the sunlight years ago, lad.” He said candidly, with no games for once.

“Do you think I would let m’self dust ‘cause o’ you bastards?” Spike demanded.

Angelus ignored him.

“What of Drusilla?”

Spike found himself ignored again as Angelus smirked.

“What. Of. Dru?” Spike said through clenched teeth. He didn’t care for Darla but his sire, he wanted to know her every movement from the day they’d left him.

Angelus shrugged, he wasn’t going to give anything away.

Spike closed his eyes in a sick realization of what had been happening with the poorly child of the house, the source of the anemia. The kid lacked red blood cells because his great git of a grandsire! He could work out why the child hadn’t been drained and knew Angelus was playing with him. He’d thought he’d sensed another vamp within the house on a couple of occasions but he put it down to the others and their games. Those fuckers always seemed to play up when he sensed it, almost as if they taunted him.

Now he knew, knew Angelus had been caught out this time while slipping inside and it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d entered the house. The little one had been sleeping in the west wing alongside his elderly nanny (said nanny liked a sniff o’ the barmaids apron of a night) and had woken with night terrors on numerous occasions recently. His sister slept in the nursery and he never heard a peep from her at night, he was glad for her. Spike had wanted to go to him to try to settle him as he wailed but his nanny or his mother mostly beat him to it. Anyway, these little ‘un’s were not so inquisitive as his Lizzie had once been and he guessed they wouldn’t be as accepting of some curious person, vampire or no, camping in their attic. More likely he would be the source of cold sweat and frightened whispers either that or screams of the ‘bad man’ in the closet. Still, he’d enjoyed watching their childish play and listened to their wild and imaginative babyish babbling until the youngest child had become ill, his face becoming pasty and wan. The boy didn’t want to play anymore with his sister and she wandered the house, at a loss of what to do with herself. It all but broke his heart, poor kiddies.

Numerous hospital appointments and hushed conversations between the few servants had eventually revealed to Spike that the baby of the house was either severely anemic or he had Leukemia. Spike had listened through the walls to hear the parents talking of their boy’s ailments, heard their tears and desperation and it was all because of the ponce before him.

Spike watched helplessly as Angelus ignored him and headed towards the stairs.

“Oh, no you fuckin’ don’t!” Spike made a grab for the elder vamp’s arm, “You leave them be!” He whispered urgently. The urge to fight him was so strong he would’ve taken great gratification in wiping the infuriating look off his grandsires face. He couldn’t, he bloody knew it because if he caused a scene or even alerted the family to his presence, he would be dust. Angelus would escape and he himself would be hunted down until they captured him rather than the true perpetrator. The bloody coppers would try to take him away and, however that happened, he would be dust scattered on the wind eventually. There would be sunlight, an attempt to remove him from the house itself. This meant a new death for him or if he fought them or drained them or some other would come and ensure he was deleted from the face of the earth, the humans would figure it out. He couldn’t allow this but he was powerless to stop it.

He followed Angelus to the boy’s room, horrified as he watched his sire’s, sire holding the tiny child by the nape of his neck. The red and black checked pyjamas damp at the crotch where the boy had pissed himself in fear, poor kid.

“See, my laddo, I can do anything I like, I could drain the little bastard if I chose. Take a sip if you like?”

The tiny boy’s legs kicked until he ran out of energy, swaying and dangling as Angelus clasped his waist and covered his mouth with his free hand to supress his terrified screams. 

The child’s eyes begged Spike to help him.

“Go ahead, I’m buggered if I care,” Spike said, hoping Angelus would believe him.

“But you do, Willy, don’t ya? Because if you didn’t care, you would’ve drained the whole family the moment they arrived. Gone soft you have, boy.” Angelus cackled.

Spike looked behind Angelus, his eyes widening as he caught sight of a black mass creeping over the walls of the room, a loud, whispering behind the boy and the vampire who held him, its tentacles almost like a molasses, smothering, dripping black ooze as it eased over the floor until it came to a stop right behind the elder vamp, prehensile fingers undulating and reaching out toward their prey.

Angelus’ leered evilly, moving his fangs to the boy’s throat before he took in the look of abject terror in his grandchilde’s eyes, his own confused as he felt a tug on the back of his leather jacket, losing his footing momentarily before righting himself. His eyes widened as he felt himself captured, beginning to be consumed by the entity as it grasped his waist and began to devour him arse first, sucking him in like a giant squid. “No! What? What’s happening?” he shrieked. “Spike, h-help me!… What the…f…Spike!” He roared in pain.

Spike almost closed his eyes as he saw the others take hold of the vampire before him, almost.

Angelus had to be stopped, had to be disinvited, dusted and bloody decimated if that’s what it took. If the others decided they were worthy of the task then who was Spike to argue? His hatred of his grandsire swelled in his gut and raged into his throat with a venom so strong he ignored Angelus’ call for help easily. This was some kind of hideous, poetic justice. Angelus had trapped Spike here for what could be eternity and deserved no less, no redemption and no soddin’ reprieve!

Spike watched the scene through narrowed eyes as the poor child cried out in the elder vampire’s arms, begging for rescue.

Angelus was a monster, the sort those nasty horror stories were written about and with what he’d done in his time he couldn’t possibly expect help, he was a monster, pure and simple. For Spike, there was no choice whether to save one of his kin or save the tiny human his grandsire seemed intent on taking with him for the ride to hell. 

He watched as the evil, corrupted and pitch-dark substance swirled around Angelus’ neck before cracking it back as Angelus cried out, the child wailing in his arms. He had but a moment to save the babe in arms and he took it, rushing forwards and stealing him away, before running, running, running and ignoring the roar of distress and anger from the west wing as he headed for solace, somewhere, anywhere.

Spike found himself under the moonlit stained glass window with an inconsolable child in his arms, the child’s fists pounded him and the fluorescence of the light in the house flickering on around him. “Hush now, hush, he’s gone.” He said kissing the child’s forehead gently, attempting to calm him. “Don’t be afraid, mate, he’s gone, he’ll not be back.” He whispered, placing the boy upon the floor before making off to his own place of protection.

The boy was left under the window his Lizzie had ensured was a place of safety as he heard the boy’s shrieking parents find him, their shouts of joy overshadowed by the state they found their son in. The others would never go there while the moon was full and the armour of the saint protected those who sought its solace.

The family left the house for good that night.

**Present Day**

Joyce headed home in the early hours, long before sunrise. She’d spent a lovely evening with her friends in London but had been unable to sleep after the strange sighting of her mother earlier that night. She wanted to be near to her baby as she felt at sixes and sevens.

She relaxed a little as she drove down into the valley at dawn before she saw the semblance of an incredibly bad storm. It had destroyed much of the heather and it had been blown this way and that and there was a burned-out tree out front. Her stomach clenched. 

Stopping the car, she got out and stood before the burning trunk, watching embers float away on the breeze. The core reminded her of lava as it glowed. She frowned as she looked to the house. Was Buffy alright? God, she must’ve been terrified by the storm, all alone in the house last night?

Hearing a branch crack she turned and almost jumped out of her skin.

“Mrs. Summers?”

Buffy’s mother turned to face a priest. Either a priest or someone who had been to a damn good fancy dress store.

“Mrs. Summers, I’m Father Michael, I’ve been asked to come here by a friend. I apologize for turning up unannounced but I’m afraid someone thinks your daughter is in grave danger.”

Joyce looked away from the priest and back to the house before she began to run.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end of the last chapter we were all a little worried that Spike would be caught in bed with Buffy by Joyce and the Priest? I can't wait for you to read what happens.

** Later that same night – Elsewhere in the house  **

The voices whispered urgently in the darkness.

“No! We cannot trust the interloper!” One entity whispered.

“Who was it who dragged him in here with us?” Another snarled.

“I admit that act was ill advised but he’s been here with us for forty years! We’ve not managed to get to the blonde vampire and we can’t harm this freak in our midst as he has become one with us! To rid ourselves of the Interloper is to end ourselves”  

“I can hear you talking about me.” The interloper said nonchalantly. Amused how they still called him the interloper though forty years had passed trapped alongside them. 

“Talk lower, he won’t hear us.” Another offered.

“He cannot be trusted!” Another hissed.

“How many times do I have to tell you, I was a feckin’ vampire in life, well un-life if you want specifics, anyway, what I’m trying to tell you idiots is that I could still hear you across the house if I was able to get away from you for long enough! You bore me with your stupidity, you don’t deserve to gain your bounty.”

“He would have us here until the end of days! It is of no consequence to him, he was immortal before, he has no soul!” The first one to speak, spoke again.

“Why is he even still here?” Another whispered angrily.   

“Who knows? It’s not as if you haven’t asked the same question every day for years. Even I thought I’d be dust in the wind and basking in the torrid flames of hell.” The interloper chuckled. “Still, although it’s been amusing enough to spend decades annoying you, I would like to be out there getting my fill of blood and shagging my women.” 

“If we can’t consume the blonde vampire to avenge ourselves and spite the devils own spawn, the Master and lure back the light, how can we regain our souls? The light hasn’t shown itself for us in four hundred years, only the boy who evades us had the light come for him.”    

Angelus lacked patience with the others as he did with any other creature. They rarely talked of anything useful, instead focusing on the main issues of the day, trapping and consuming Spike in vengeance, getting to the light and how to rid themselves of a vampire they thought they might have caused to dust when they took him into them. Of course, they lacked sense and direction, once simple uneducated folk, they didn’t realize this was why they were preyed upon by the Master in the first place. Angelus knew consuming Spike would only cause him to be trapped alongside them and the annoying little scroat would drive him crazier than the ignorant oafs he currently shared space with. These idiots had no idea what would happen and it irked him more than anything that they would not listen to him.  

Day rolled into night, rolled into day. There was no respite from any of this and he had no control over them or their collective thoughts. They all existed in some form of stasis, their thoughts stagnating. There was too much time for Angelus to think and reliving past kills and tortures was the only thing that got him through. None within the group would trust his input, even if he suggested strategies and ways to get to his most hated grandchilde. At least they agreed on one thing, ending Spike was the name of the game, they could just never settle on how they would do this. Jesus, it wasn’t as if they hadn’t had the time to think!  

“That’s because the old bitch had protection put on her room, she is the one who stopped us reaching the light when she died!” Another gabbled.

“Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie,” Some others chanted from the gloom.

Then the others mumbled on-masse, growls, gripes and grumbles emitted from its undulating core.

Whatever was left of the vampire sighed in irritation. “Have I not told you several hundred times, you must capture the boy and force the light back, I think you bunch of imbeciles don’t actually want to find the light!” To him, the light of god just popping on down to collect a few stray souls seemed perfectly simple, if they did the right thing.    

 “The boy runs away to his protected place!” a group of three others spoke together to create a spine-chilling echo. 

“So?” the spirit of Angelus bit out, “You broke through the spell in little Willy’s room, that was all too easy once the girl unknowingly walked through the door! All you need to do is get the girl to do something which breaks the spell to her room, be a little creative. I know I don’t want to be stuck with you bastards forever, and the way I’m feeling right now, hell is the better feckin’ option!”     

The voices babbled in annoyance.

“The interloper wants to be free, as do we, this is enough to trust him I think?” One tentatively uttered.      

Angelus sighed, he so wanted to go through the same conversation for the five-thousandth time! 

The voices began arguing and talking incessantly.

“Enough! For Jesus sake, I can’t hear me self think with you eijits!” The vampire roared. It was nothing to him to be called an interloper after forty years but to have to deal with this incessant chatter, well, that was another thing entirely and he was not above losing his temper.

The only audible sound became an inhuman noise of squelching black with the consistency of tar, stretching and easing away from the portion of itself which contained the vampire as it tried for the millionth time to separate itself from the one it had made the greatest mistake in consuming. The globule could only pull itself so far away before snapping back into the same bulging mass. There was no escape for Angelus or those who tried to rid themselves of him. They were the others, one entity.Sure, they’d wanted him gone, he was part of the Masters line and deserved being sent to hell. What they hadn’t realized was that he was there to stay, he hadn’t gone anywhere. No escape from the detested one now, he was part of them, he was an ‘other’ and would be forever if they couldn’t find a way to rid themselves of him. The Irony was almost laughable.     

“The girl is the key, I’m certain of it and I for one am up for scaring the bejesus out of her while we hunt her down. She oozes fear and I find it intoxicating, it’s almost like tasting her sweet blood as it runs rivers over her chest. I want to rip her throat out and revel in her death.”

The voices hummed in agreement, all humanity they may once have had was lost in their quest to find their way to the light and end the existence of the last of the Masters line. If it meant siding with one of the hateful vampire’s line to do so, then so be it.   

Little did they know that their place in heaven would be lost for eternity if they continued in this vein.  Until now, because they had only made humans afraid up to this point and hadn’t physically harmed a living person, they may garner a smidgeon of forgiveness from their lord.  But if Angelus had his way they would all burn in hell, never getting the opportunity to even make it to heavens gates.

…………………

** The Following Morning  **

“Buffy! Buffy, where are you baby?” Joyce shrieked as she ran through the house, forgetting it was only dawn and the daughter who liked her bed a little too much would probably still be sleeping.

Father Michael followed Joyce into the house, his hands deep in the pockets of the navy parker coat which only left the collar of his sacred outfit visible. He hadn’t been invited inside but the woman had seemed so distraught he thought she might need some support, so he watched over her. 

He’d come down into the valley driving the small green Fiat Punto that the parish funds allowed him to run, but he had left it up on a higher embankment in favour of walking the fifty yards or so down to the house. It wasn’t often he had the time to enjoy the wondrous creation of the lord on a crisp morning which, regardless of the past night’s disruption, was truly stunning. An opalescent sun peeked over the horizon, beaming hues of ochre and earthy red, accompanied by altostratus clouds floating over the line where the earth met the sky. “Red sky in the morning, Shepherd’s warning,” he’d uttered in awe. He’d kissed his rosary in thanks.

Kyle’s conversation with him the previous evening had left him slightly unnerved and unable to sleep once the church mass was over and his duties were done for the night. Once he had time to himself to think he realized the lad had been hesitant to leave the church and he’d never seen him in such a state before. Kyle had been such a calm young man before and once he’d thought about what the boy had said, he made up his mind to investigate the house in Dead Man’s Reach. It was probably all twaddle, but then, wasn’t that what he was here for? To prove his parishioners fears unfounded? To prove the lord’s love was always with them and evil was just something they read about in the bible?

The priest hesitated as his foot crossed the threshold, it almost felt like there was a barrier he had to push through to enter. There was an atmosphere which changed as soon as he stepped inside. He quickly brushed the feeling of dread away, old houses were damp, sometimes felt unusual and could cause goose-pimples as the sweep of a cool and prickly breeze enveloped one’s body. A wide expanse which hadn’t been lived in for some time could intimidate some but not him, his lord walked alongside him aiding him in the decisions which needed to be made to protect his flock. The sight of the beautiful stained glass window above him on the stairs gave testament to that. No one had ever challenged his faith, a theologian with a degree from Cambridge, until last night when Kyle, the baby he’d baptized and seen through his holy communion into adulthood came to him with tales of evil and strange happenings, unwilling to be disbelieved. 

Father Michael brushed those thoughts aside and watched the woman rush around calling out for her daughter. Did she not realize it was before six? he thought as he checked his watch, any teen worth their salt would be safely in the land of nod. 

…………

“Shit!” was the first thought Spike had as he heard the front door open with a slam and Buffy’s mum calling out to her, anxiously. He didn’t want to move, he felt like his bones had melted, filled with the warmth and comfort of the woman who lay beside him. Liquid, like the rain which had battered the windows that past night had become burning fire and it had enveloped them both in its heat. Buffy. This woman, he never wanted to leave and he knew at that moment she had ignited Greek fire within him, unable to be doused, only to build and build. She was his now and he would burn forever for her.

It had been a quiet night with no further disturbances but then it had only been a few hours since they’d finally drifted off to sleep and the storm had subsided. He wanted to touch her, god, he wanted it so much, wanted to consume her until she would despair if he ever left her, wanted to feel her engorged and desperate for him. He’d waited so long for someone like her he wasn’t sure he had the control not to take her with everything he had and scare her half to death. He wanted his dreams to become true and for her to be the one he woke up to every single day. He could stay in the house forever if he had that, if he had her love, he knew it. 

He found his arm cradling her ribs, underneath her pert breasts. She’d moved in the night and he was nestled against her back, his body flush with hers with one of his legs between hers, his pelvis against her butt and the intoxicating scent of her floating around them. Her long hair tickled his face and the urge to bite into the nape of her neck surged forth as he bid the demon back, he couldn’t blame it, he was famished. His cock strained against his zipper and he grimaced as Buffy sighed, it was the most libidinous sound he’d ever heard.

“Buffy!” He heard from the lower floor. 

This thing they had would be over now that her mother was home, it had to be. How could it be anything more? He wasn’t stupid by any means, he knew whatever he wanted could only be a daydream. Her mother would come, Buffy would tell her about the frights she’d had in the house and her mother would take her away from him and who could blame her?

He had no regrets, this wasn’t a mistake and at least he’d had one night, one amazing night. Love hurt, he knew that. Better to have loved and lost and all that romantic shite.

The floorboards creaked as Joyce headed closer scaling the stairs and walking like she was on a mission along the corridor towards Buffy’s room.

“Pet?” He whispered loudly into her ear.

Footsteps became closer.

“Pet? ’ve gotta go!” He said again, urgently.

Buffy didn’t rouse.

Her mother was closer.

“Buffy?” He tried again.

“Hmm?” Was her reply and she turned her lips to his and planted a sweet kiss on his lips. He felt her hook her arm around his neck, drawing him closer and wanted nothing less than to snog her senseless but now was certainly not the time. 

“Pet, I’ve gotta g…”

The door to Buffy’s room was slung open and Joyce strode in.

Buffy pulled the covers over her head, “Mom? It’s hardly dawn…what time is it?”

Joyce halted and looked at the crumpled mass of covers which was her daughter, before looking at her watch and sinking to sit beside her, shucking off her pumps which had irritated her during the whole journey. She rubbed her heels. “It’s five-thirty honey.”

“I’m tired, it’s been kind of a loud night.” Buffy said, throwing back the covers and easing herself up into a seated position against the pillows. She had to check there was no sign of Spike, she’d felt the loss of his presence but had no idea where he’d gone.

“But you’re OK, baby?” Joyce said as she caressed her daughters face.

“Yeah, the tree got hit but I was OK, the house wasn’t hit.”

“There’s a priest here, he’s been sent by someone who thought you were in trouble.

“Mom, I’m not in trouble, I just want to sleep.” Buffy said, making herself comfortable and turning over onto her side.

Joyce kissed her forehead and hugged her. “You sleep then, honey, I’ll make you breakfast in a few hours. I love you.”

“I love you too mom.” She said, letting out a sigh of relief as Joyce closed the door gently behind her, glad her mom had gone and desperate to know Spike was safe before she got dressed and went to speak with the priest. She knew she would have to speak with him or he may say something to her mother and scare her half to death and she couldn’t have that. But she also wanted Spike protected. He had admitted he was one of the undead and who knew what a priest in the house could do to him?

In the meantime, she began pulling off her top and shorts, searching for something to wear.

Where the hell had Spike gone?

** 1969 **

“Don’t you talk to me like that young lady, for the one-hundredth time, you are not going to that music festival! You are only fifteen years old and it’s on the other side of the country! That’s two thousand miles away!”

Grace and her daughter, Joyce, lived in the small city of San Bernardino, California, in a tiny town house left to Grace by her own parents who’d died young. Joyce’s father was long gone; he’d only stuck around for the first few months of the little girl’s life, leaving Grace to bring up her daughter alone. All they had was each other. She made a meagre income by doing tarot and palm readings alongside her part time job as a receptionist at a funeral home, barely breaking even each month and praying neither of them fell ill, or the pipes sprung a leak as Grace couldn’t afford insurance payments. 

And now this. Joyce was asking to go to Woodstock all the way over on the east coast, with her best friend Kimmy and Jake, Kimmy’s brother, who was only a few years older than Joyce and said he had enough cash for the trip and anything they might need, he said he had a side line but wouldn’t say what it was, this rang alarm bells with Grace instantly. She forbade it but Joyce had kept chipping away at her resolve for months, begging and pleading, throwing tantrums and slamming her bedroom door as she shrieked like a banshee. She’d even tried being sweet and doing all the chores and making dinner. Grace was sick of hearing about the festival, she didn’t understand why her daughter would want to go off and watch those Rock n’ Roll bands, she felt she should stick to that nice boy, Frankie Avalon, he always sang such lovely songs, had a lovely face and a clean cut, all American image.  

Grace’s ears rang at Joyce’s latest hissy fit.

“But Mooom! Kimmy’s brother will take care of us the whole time and we’ll come right home when it finishes. I’ll call you when we get there, I promise. Pleeeease!”

“I’m saying no and that’s final! While you live in my house, you abide by my rules. Do not ask me again!”

Grace hated saying no to her daughter. Joyce was generally a good girl but she’d started to get such notions as soon as she’d become a teenager. There was this ‘so called’ Flower Power movement which Joyce didn’t stop talking about and then there were all the anti- war rally’s these kids seemed to be into, opposing the war in Vietnam. There were boys going off to fight and the mood of the country had changed over-night it seemed. She worried for her daughter in this time of great change, where men landed on the moon and the Civil rights and Gay movements rioted all over the country, life wasn’t as simple as it had been when she was a girl. Grace just wanted her daughter to find a steady beau and date him until they finished high school and get married. She was under no delusions that a marriage at eighteen would work, it hadn’t for her, but Joyce needed calming down, ridding of the wanderlust which coursed through her veins and she was sure marriage to a good man and a child of her own would help with that.  

Grace kissed her cross faced daughter goodbye as she left for work. She could never know that by the time she returned that evening, Joyce would be in a camper van heading to New York and it would be the last time she ever saw her child in her lifetime.  

** Present Day **

Spike had almost crapped his pants, if that were possible. Joyce was on the verge of walking into the room as he darted into the closet in the corner of the room. 

The hackles rose on the back of his neck as he stood inside, hoping Joyce wouldn’t spot his boots, barely concealed under the bed. That wasn’t the only reason, he felt a presence in there with him.

“You have never seen me before, why would now be different?” A childish voice announced. “I want my mother; do you hear me! She has her mother, why does she have her mother and I have no-one!” The voice roared, kicking off in a childlike paddy.  

‘What the fuck?’ Was Spike’s first thought as he sensed a rumble of small limbs battering the space behind him.

“Shush, she’ll hear you. Be quiet and you can talk to me after.” He conceded, closing his eyes tightly. If there were the others in the closet with him, he knew he’d be lost just as Angelus was and the women in the room would hear his screams as they dragged him to hell. It was best just to succumb to the fate he’d expected for the past one hundred years, he didn’t want it but it was better than putting Buffy in mortal danger.

Nothing of the sort happened and he frowned.

“You heard me?” A tiny voice squeaked, “You heard me!” It yelled.

“Didn’t I tell you to bloody be quiet!” Spike hissed lowly.

“Your foot is on my leg!” The voice cried out, not in pain but more in wonder.

“What?” Spike looked down and saw the lower half of his jeans gone and the leg of a small child there instead. “Err, fuck, sorry mate.” He apologized, moving his foot away, balancing his feet on either side of the closet as he peered through the gap at his golden goddess talking with her mum.

It seemed that all that was required for Spike to see Tommy was his touch and it taken the poor child all these years to realize it.

Spike felt small hands clasp his hips with a sigh, a tiny head lay itself on the small of his back. It was all very weird but he was concentrating on Buffy and shook his head with a sigh. The last thing he needed was another complication, especially as the woman of his dreams was stripping naked in front of his very eyes. This was getting interesting.

** … **

** 1969 **

Her mother was weird, she always had been and Joyce didn’t think she realized how the people of the neighbourhood spoke about her, calling her a witch, devil woman, side show freak and many other ignorant names for the gift they would never understand. A gift even Joyce didn’t understand totally herself. Her mom had the sight. Joyce had overheard her mother tell her regular clients of things she couldn’t possibly know and tell of their dead loved ones watching over them, standing beside them, waiting to cross over to the other side but unable to until they relayed a secret or where the insurance policy was, or mainly to tell the living they loved them. Of course, this gave people comfort during their darkest times but it didn’t stop Joyce wanting to escape her strange mother. She hoped her mother’s sight wouldn’t track her down and send the cops for her. She didn’t think it worked like that, if it had, her mother would’ve known her father was going to walk out on her and never married him, surely?

Joyce couldn’t exactly say she’d been treated badly by her mother and she’d always been well cared for, but she was fifteen now, a grown woman, a woman who could choose to go to Woodstock without her mother’s permission.  

Kimmy’s brother, Jake, turned up at the house to collect Joyce at nine-thirty am, the radio loudly playing the smooth tones of ‘Hey Joe’ by Jimi Hendrix through its tinny speakers. Joyce had dressed carefully, wanting to impress the seventeen-year old, and was was wearing her favorite yellow smock top, tiny denim shorts, sneakers, a band of flowers around her dirty blonde, curly hair, topped off with round, rose tinted sunglasses. She didn’t know at that moment that this was the outfit her mother would describe when she reported her missing to the cops.

Jake turned up the music and turned to pass his joint to Joyce, who put her legs up on the dashboard of the van, crossing them whilst shivering and reveling in the heated look Jake gave them as they drove out of the city. Kimmy hadn’t come, Jake explained as their mother hadn’t permitted it and Joyce guessed the two friends plan to run away hadn’t quite followed suit and they had a pact never to tell, she knew Kimmy never would. Regardless of that, she was going! She was on her way to New York with an older guy to a real music festival and she felt so very grown up.    

By the time ‘Break on Through’ by the Doors came on the radio in the smoke-filled van, she knew she would never return home, she was finally free, and if this life on the road alongside Jake was the only way to live life on her terms, then so be it.  


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter, Spike had almost evaporated into thin air and Joyce came home with a priest. Who knows what craziness might ensue?

**1980 – Christmas in Paris, France.**

“Dearest, you know dadd…, uh, Angelus will join us when he’s sown his oats and had his fill, he gets restless being stuck alone with us women. My darling, there is fun to be had, we can take as many young men or women to our beds as we like, we can fuck them until they die of exhaustion or blood loss, whichever comes first.” Darla drawled, happily crimping her hair just like Madonna wore hers, her outfit laid out ready on the bed. Tight ripped jeans, a crop top, alongside long strings of real antique pearls and, of course, her black fingerless gloves. 

Dru was such a prude. She insisted on wearing her outdated clothes and barely made it into the realms of a Gothic new romantic. 

“No! Daddy has attended the black mass and the others will not allow him to leave!” Dru uttered, swaying with her head clenched between her hands. “They suck and slurp in their mass, wave and weave like leaves in the breeze.” She sing-songed, hot tears rolling over her cheeks.

“As usual, I have no idea what you’re talking about Dru, darling. No matter, you may lurk in the shadows and I’ll bring the pretty ones to you.”

“I want the boys but I can’t tell which are boys or which are girls!” Dru griped, “Curly locks, curly locks, will thou be mine, thou shalt not wash dishes, not yet serve the swine.” 

Darla paused, a clump of uncrimped hair, held in her hand and muttered, ” I live in my own world but it’s okay. They know me there.” Shaking her head in exasperation at Dru’s ramblings. 

Darla pacified her grandchilde by taking her to a local orphanage that night but even she wondered what had become of Angelus, she would punish him if his adoration of her had waned, torture him until he loved her again, rip his insides out and feed them to the irritation of a Childe he had left by her side. 

Although she hated the mess, in the meantime she would just have to torture Dru, it would be the only thing which would truly pacify her. She was stuck with the crazy bitch and she would make the most of it, for now.

**Present day**

“I, uh, I’m sorry father, my daughter isn’t fit to receive visitors just now, she’s still asleep.” Joyce said, her hand sliding down the bannister of the staircase.

“Tha’s alright, Mrs. Summers. I thought I might take a look around’t place if you didn’t mind so much. The lad who told me ‘bout the house was insistent there was something fishy goin’ on here. I jus’ want to put the daft apeth’s mind at rest.” Father Michael said with a broad smile as he rubbed his hands together. “It’s a parky morning Mrs. Summers, any chance of a cuppa?”

Joyce’s hand rose to her mouth and she gasped. “Father, I can’t tell you how sorry I am for being a terrible hostess. Whatever would my mother think of me inviting you in and not making you welcome?”

God! Oh god, her mother! She’d seen her mother in that parking lot in London and she wasn’t sure if she was having some flashback from her reckless days in the seventies. Sure, she had the odd joint now and then but the paranoia she felt right then was like a flashback to a bad LSD trip. She’d looked older but Joyce would’ve recognized her anywhere. Why was she here? And now? If she was having delusions then why her mother after all these years? She thought she’d made peace with her mother’s death and the fact she hasn’t seen her since was a teenager, many years ago. Yes, she had regrets but these regrets had to be left in the past, she couldn’t live her life wondering whether her mom had missed her, how she might have fussed over her granddaughter. Was her mom haunting her now because of something she had or hadn’t done?

Both looked up startled as the kettle began its high shrilling whistle in the kitchen. Joyce rushed to the kitchen calling out behind her, “Oh, my, Piper must be here, somewhere.”

…

Father Michael watched Joyce check her watch, she looked distracted. It was barely six and he wondered how their live out housekeeper was on the premises, especially as she had a thirty-minute drive here. It seemed a little unusual.

“Does Piper usually start work this early?” He queried, following Joyce into the steam filled kitchen, his hands deep in the pockets of his coat as he looked over the room.  The washed dishes of a meal for two had been carefully placed on the drainer, hadn’t the daughter been alone last night? He couldn’t say why seeing these items troubled him, but they did.

“Oh, not normally, she gets here at eight. I wonder where she could’ve got to?” Joyce said, clearly unsettled as she took out a heavy cloth and pulled the large boiling kettle from the gas. She didn’t click on to the fact he knew their housekeeper.

“Something seems to have upset you Mrs. Summers,” he said kindly as she pulled the kettle from the stove. “Is my being here disturbing you?”

“No, of course not… you’re welcome. I, uh, father…you see, we have an electric kettle and I’ve never seen this one before. It sort of reminds me of the one my mother used as a child, I’m just being silly really. Piper probably found it in the back of some old cupboard and decided to use it. Yes, t-that’s I-it.” Joyce said, her hands trembling as she set some cups and saucers on the counter, causing the crockery to rattle.

Joyce let out a shuddering breath and Father Michael realized she was on the verge of tears. Moving to place a kindly hand over hers, he took the teaspoon from her hand and ushered her to the table. “Perhaps I should make the tea? Something’s clearly bothering you, Mrs. Summers, and I’m a very good listener.” 

It wasn’t in his nature, or part of his vocation to be selfish but he wasn’t sure the American lady of the house could make proper cuppa. In Yorkshire, making a brew was almost a sacred act and tea worship was a thing.

He watched her anxiously wring her hands while he prepared the pot, allowing it to draw in silence. Placing two steaming cups before them, he patted Joyce’s hand gently. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

Joyce was quiet for some time and he could almost feel her mulling over something in her mind.

Eventually she looked him dead in the eye and said. “Do you believe in ghosts, father?”

….

**Present Day – Buffy’s room**

It was in here with him and whatever it was hadn’t harmed him, that wasn’t to say it wouldn’t harm him! He couldn’t help but watch Buffy through the gap in the wooden door as she changed in readiness to join her mother downstairs. He had once been a gentleman but found he just couldn’t be where she was concerned. At any other time if would have been titillating to watch the girl of his dreams slink out of her nightclothes and while it made him quiver, the entity sharing the small space of the darkened closet made him quiver more, and not in a good way. Any amorous thoughts of naked Buffy had to be cast aside for the moment, regardless of whether the wondrous sight of her drawing on her undergarments slinking into a pair of fitted jeans and made his cock hard. Her frillies were so unlike those the women wore in his day, heck, even in Lizzie’s day, not that he looked at Lizzie’s underwear in the same way. Yes, he had eyes, and his old friend had hung her brassieres, hosiery and large panties in the bathroom to dry so he couldn’t help but see them occasionally but his friendship with the girl helped him keep a certain decorum around her that, it appeared, he was wholly incapable of in Buffy’s presence. With Buffy’s undergarments, there was a whole lot less of them, to the point some of the knickers barely covered her properly and he was fearful she may catch cold. His thoughts drifted momentarily, surely it couldn’t be comfortable with such a thin scrap of lace…there. He referred to her almost naked buttocks as the tiny string looked almost like a cheese wire. He shuddered, a slight smirk gracing his lips as he realized was more because of the thought of the damage a pair of knickers of this type could cause to her and not because he was trapped in a cupboard with god only knows what. 

There was also a priest in the house. 

He wasn’t sure what a priest could do to him, never having come across one in the whole time he’d resided in this hellish place. God botherer’s and vampires rarely played nicely. Spike had seen his fair share of horror movies such as The Exorcist, The Omen and Amityville Horror when the electricity and TV was working. Priests rarely fared well, the evil often beating them back until some heroic and persistent priest (usually with a tragic backstory or experience in exorcism) came along and compelled the evil to leave with the power of Christ. In Spike’s case, he wasn’t going anywhere unless it was inside the bag of a vacuum cleaner so he decided it was best not to cross paths with the parish leader, better to avoid any ugly or unnecessary dealings with the man. This, of course meant leaving the safety of Buffy’s room in case he wanted to cleanse the room and if the incorporeal matter in the closet with him was malevolent, he would have to head out to the semi sanctuary of his own room sooner rather than later.  There was nowhere else for him to go now and to remain totally safe as the horrors had breached the boundaries Lizzie had put in place to keep him safe. Of course, Buffy couldn’t have known by opening that door that she’d resigned him to a life with no solace apart from the room she occupied and it really wasn’t her fault. He’d noticed that the others tended not to play up while Joyce was around, but then it had only been days since they began their tirade against Buffy so who knew what they had in store for the elder Summers woman? From experience the adults of the house had never known what was happening under their noses but they would have to wait and see what happened with Buffy’s mum. He crossed his fingers that she would never have to deal with the horrifying truth of this place.

Spike could almost hear the thump of his long-gone heartbeat pounding in his head, counting the moments before he could leave the closet and not scare the half-dressed young woman in her room. He couldn’t wait any longer and as she pulled on her sweater before he burst out of the closet, slamming the door behind him.

He moved swiftly to her and she let out a yip before relaxing as she recognized the figure coming towards her as him. He couldn’t help but draw Buffy into his arms and hold her to him tightly. “Pet, ‘m sorry, I didn’t want to leave, there was nowhere else to hide but in there.” He nodded his head towards the closet. “Not sure I was alone, neither.”

Buffy didn’t register what Spike had said at first. “What? I-I, y-you were there all along!” She squeaked indignantly. “Hey! I was naked in my bedroom, is there no privacy in this house?”  

He caressed her cheek briefly with the flat pad of his thumb, brimming with happiness that he had at least come out of the closet with his body in one piece and nothing had harmed his girl. “I’m sorry, pet, if it makes you happier, I didn’t see anything, had other things on my mind.” With that, he ushered her behind him with one arm, ignoring her protests. 

“What in the hell is going on?” She objected as he manhandled her.

“Hush, pet, I’ll explain as soon as I can, for now you’re just going to have to trust me.” Spike dropped into game face. “Come out here! Right now,” he hissed towards the closet, “If you’re gonna take me then bloody well get on and do it but you don’t touch her! You’ll never touch her! She’s protected from the likes of you!”

….

Tommy let out a whimper and eased the closet door open. He’d been more afraid once the vampire had left him in the closet and slammed the door, wondering whether he’d dreamed the interaction and the long wished for hug he’d had with him, or, the others had found a way to play with his mind, even in his safe place. 

The door creaked open, letting out a long whine as ancient brass fittings in need of oiling complained. Taking tentative steps, he walked to Spike and stood before him, eager to touch him again and make him know he was there but now he was afraid, the vampire seemed mighty angry and with his yellow eyes, ridged face and pointed fangs he was now almost as scary as the others. 

Tommy couldn’t possibly know that he wasn’t the only one in the room who hadn’t seen the vampire in full game face before now.

…

Buffy’s mind was racing, Spike had been in the closet, spying on her as she got dressed. The very thought of it made her blush to the roots of her hair. She should’ve known he wouldn’t go far but if she’d known he was in the closet she might have made an effort to shield herself from prying eyes.  That feeling was back, the one where the hairs on the back of her neck rose and fear coursed through her veins prompting a ripple to run the length of her spine. Her stomach clenched as Spike let out what could only be described as a hiss towards the closet. What the hell was he doing? And why was he making such a strange, guttural noise? He’d promised her she was safe in this room, her room and now he was making strange and unnerving noises at the closet, the top of his body bowed as if ready to fight something. His body vibrated with power. She clenched her fists wondering what was inside that could cause him to act this way before grasping hold of Spike’s waist tightly, closing her eyes and daring to lay her head in between his shoulder blades as she waited for whatever was going to happen next. Her hands and upper body felt every movement, every corded muscle move in a way which could only be described as feline and predatory but in the same instance, strong and safe. He made her feel safe even though he told her he was a vampire and had sworn he’d never hurt her. Buffy knew it was a risk but she believed him and wondered if she was out of her mind for trusting him. It was a risk she’d have to take. 

Spike became silent and she opened her eyes, standing on tip toes and peering over his shoulder while following the movement of his head as he looked to the floor. She blinked rapidly, not quite believing her eyes as she realized he was looking at the indentations of tiny footprints appearing a trail towards them on the rug. Shuddering, she let out a strangled gasp before squeezing her eyes closed and attempting to take a step backwards and run from whatever phantom was the room with them. Staggering back and nearly losing her footing, she found herself captured in Spike’s arms before she fell, his movements unbelievably fast and dexterous. 

“N-no, please don’t, I don’t wanna see it, please Spike.” She cried fearfully, keeping her eyes tightly closed and moving back to her hiding place behind Spike when his arms guided her.

….

Spike had moments to digest what had happened in the closet. He was unharmed and it appeared the spirit was that of a small child, not a raging, spiteful and vicious apparition as he’d initially thought. The tiny spirit had touched him and made himself visible to him, Christ, the small being had hugged him like he hadn’t felt another being’s touch in a hundred years. This wasn’t one of the others, this was something else entirely. He knew he would feel it if this spirit was evil and he couldn’t feel anything at all and didn’t believe whatever it was, would be there to hurt him. 

He knew Buffy was petrified and shushed her while rubbing his cool hands on hers as they clutched his waist. “Wait, pet, just trust me. I don’t think this is them, think this is some other spirit, it d’int harm me in there, ‘s prob’ly trapped here, same as me. Why else would it be in this room? The barriers don’t seem to have been breached and it’s not the way of the others. Those bastards come in hard and fast, clawing and grabbing at what they want.”  

The footsteps stopped before Spike and he felt a small hand touch his belly and watched as it corporealized before them, almost looking like a tiny, albeit translucent, human.

“I’m Thomas,” The boy grinned, “I won’t hurt you. Lizzie wouldn’t have let me be here if I would, she saved me too.” The small child smiled a beatific smile. He had the blonde curls of a cherub, along with wide, vivid and sparkling blue eyes much like Spike’s own, a past memory in a Victorian looking glass. 

Spike was taken aback, Lizzie had never mentioned the boy, the spirit or whatever the fuck he was but for the child to be here in this haven meant he was also protected for some reason and he was fucked if he knew what it was.

…

Buffy dared to peek through one open eye, her head cocked around Spike’s right bicep. The boy looked to be dressed in an outfit which looked to be totally old, she thought as shivers ran over her body, the only thing keeping her sane was Spike and she clutched her torso to his back tightly, he was her sanctuary in the craziest of worlds.  

…

“Pleased to meet you, Thomas,” Spike said, holding out a hand to the little boy before him, amused as he felt something, not flesh but substance.

Spike turned to Buffy with a wide grin and lisped, “See, there’s nothing here that’ll hurt you, pet, he’s jus’ a boy.” He smiled toothily, feeling foolish that he’d been so afraid of the child himself.  

A look of horror crossed Buffy’s features and she let go of his waist and fell to the floor, back peddling the room towards to the door in a crab like motion as she almost hyperventilated.  

He held a hand out to her, “W-what? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Mom! Mom! Moooommmyyy!!!” She screamed as she ran from the room and slammed the door behind her.

Spike was confused for a moment until his tongue met a razor-sharp fang. He’d been in game face the whole time.  Shit, shit, shit! She knew he was a vamp but she’d never seen him in his full glory and it had scared her half to death, poor girl. 

He shook off his true self and strode the room, incensed at his own stupidity.

“Mate, I think we’re fucked.” He said wryly to Thomas and stared unhappily at the door his Buffy had exited moments before. “She’ll never forgive me for this.”

**Present Day, London**

Darla had left Angelus to his own devices for long enough. Although she been mildly irritated in the early years, her Childe had now disobeyed her and stayed away for forty years. Perhaps a few years she could forgive, but she was now at the point where she was showing her impudent Childe she didn’t care one iota about his disappearance by getting on with her own existence, whether she was dragging his bat-shit crazy Childe along with her or no. Regardless, he always graced her thoughts and dreams and she would beat his disrespect out of him when she next saw him.

Darla had never been afraid of being alone but she had always found herself in need of company of some sort and any thoughts of returning to her sire, the Master, had been ruined because he’d never forgiven her for siring Angelus. Her Childe was too true of a contender for the Masters throne as head of their clan, too evil and selfish through and through. The Master had once told her Angelus’ lack of respect would be the clan’s undoing before he told her she would never return to her place at his side until Angelus was dust. He’d warned her of the rocky path her Childe would lead her down, towards total destruction. Darla had snorted, ignoring the etiquette of the undead and immortal as she walked away, turning her back on the old ways and snubbing her sire. Their link was weak now and she had no idea where her Master was now. She’d heard he had been dusted by a young slayer but she’d never felt their bond break, he must be out there, somewhere…

Her other link with Angelus was reasonably strong and her gut told her he hadn’t dusted either, she would’ve felt it. The ties which had once bound them seemed to be shorn, for want of a better word, they were there but also not as resilient as they once were, like a woven rope whose center piece held on for dear life by a few robust threads. She often thought back to where had they been when he left all those years ago? Yorkshire, England. The place which housed the shit hole of a house which had belonged to her very own sire. Time had passed, but then what was time when you were immortal? She wondered whether Angelus had returned to her Master’s house of ‘Trapped Souls’.  Her maker had told her many a time in her early years of the place where he had spent his time torturing the local folk, turning some to watch their mothers come to his house and beg for the souls of their children or husbands only to find themselves drained and thrown into a pit in the cellar. Her sire had told her much of the place he’d spent many years before he’d sired her and he’d been in true awe of how low humans could sink, what they would do to save themselves and how they begged for their lives in the most delightful way.   

On their last tour of England, Angelus had wanted to strike out on his own for a while as he often did, but never for such a long a time as this. During the time since they last saw Angelus the girls had wandered Europe aimlessly, adding to their lengthy list of victims through the decades; the drugs scenes of the sixties, seventies, eighties and nineties where their victims swallowed pills, sucked coke up their noses and injected heroin, creating easy prey. They lived lives of luxury in a time of prosperity in the eighties which led into times of monetary recession where their victims blood tasted like those they’d taken in the Great Depression.  More recently they’d become sick of the synthetics in human victim’s blood causing it to pump thickly through veins while the kids were high on ecstasy or heroin. The throbbing thrill of the dance music explosion supplied easy pickings in clubs in every country, especially with a red-hot blonde at the helm of their little duo, Darla luring young men and women in as though she were still one herself.  

Then came the new Millennium, a second new century for Dru, the third for Darla. They had celebrated in London and feasted like queens on the blood of the innocent, the elderly and those drunk on life (or just hopelessly drunk) as they attempted to head home after the New Year’s fireworks, the smog creating a hunting ground on London streets not dissimilar to the scourge’s playground of the eighteen hundreds. 

Darla was in a pensive mood. 

“Berlin on the verge of war was something, wasn’t it my sweet?” She asked Drusilla dreamily as the brunette feasted on the bell boy in their latest hotel, ignored as her paramour gobbled the young man’s blood through his wrist, his body splayed and prone on the four-poster bed. They had watched the Berlin wall taken down, just as they’d once watched it built alongside Angelus and Darla reminisced those good times when they’d all been together. Not William, of course, never William. William had been a nuisance from the first but then what could she expect from a vampire who in human form was such a bore, a man they’d walked past without a second thought in the street. She never could fathom why Drusilla had turned away and followed the young man, only ever getting some preposterous and lunatic remark when she’d queried. The dark vampire puzzled her from the moment she met her, who the hell was the King of Cups anyway?

Wriggling into figure hugging, skin tight indigo jeans and then fastening a plunge bra she pulled on a silken black, low cut top before leaning down to zip up her favorite stiletto ankle boots, Darla added a long diamond necklace which finished with a large stone at her belly to finish off her outfit. She was bored of this life and wanted the type of cruel and merciless entertainment only Angelus could provide, she was so terribly bored of babysitting the insane undead. 

Receiving no reply, she asked slyly, “Didn’t you ever wonder what ever became of dearest William?” 

There was a whimper and the young man was pushed to the floor with a thump.

Darla had spent over one-hundred years trying not to mention that name, the less William was mentioned, the less Dru became distraught by the compassionate vampire’s loss and the happier she and her charge were. Now she was in a truly vindictive mood and there was only one person she could direct it towards.

She turned to Dru as she bit her smallest finger and fluttered her eyelashes, “Ooopsie.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We left a terrified Buffy seeking solace with her mother after seeing Spike in full game face.  
> This chapter is gonna get real so I suggest you grab a pillow to hide behind.

**Present day**

Spike rushed out of Buffy’s room as silently as possible after ushering Tommy back inside his closet and demanding he stay there for his own safety.

His stomach clenched as he listened at the top of the stairs, hidden in the shadows, to his girl weeping hysterically in her mother’s arms.

“H-he, he, changed, one minute he was normal, the next he’d changed into a m-monster!” She sobbed, her voice muffled as he mother attempted to calm her.

“Who Buffy? Who did this to you?” Joyce begged, getting no reply apart from more tears as her daughter clutched onto her for dear life.

….

“Way to go, dear.” A voice piped up behind him, he recognized the voice as Grace’s.

“Do you think I wanted this?” Spike hissed back, not taking his eyes off the lower floor. “I never wanted her to be afraid of me, there’s far worse than me in this house and now she’ll have me hunted down and dusted. I’ll bet that priest will be up her in minutes with his holy water and wooden crosses.”

“More fool him, I say,” Grace chuckled, “It would take a religious army to rid this house of its inhabitants. Buffy stands more of a chance of stopping this but she refuses to use her gift to even try to see what she’s dealing with.”

“What do you mean?” Spike said, his eyes watchful for Buffy’s return. He hoped she’d make up some cock n’ bull story about having a nightmare for her mother and run back to him telling him she was sorry for overreacting, that she had been in shock and all was well between them. Something told him that was unlikely.

“That girl down there,” Grace pointed to the ground floor of the house, “has more power in her little finger than a hundred of these so-called psychics and mediums you see peddling their ‘gifts’ at carnivals and on the TV. I like to think of what she has as being a little like writer’s block. She was even able to see me as a child, talked to me and even played with me. It was almost like being a real grandmother for a while.” Grace sighed wistfully, “That was until the nanny spotted me, stupid woman told her mother and I think the kerfuffle made by Joyce scared the poor wee thing into blocking these things out, like she felt it was something her mother wouldn’t allow. Joyce was a stubborn and bull-headed child, she never understood my gift and thought me a witch or some such kerflooey the neighbors told her, all she wanted was to be normal but she is also anything but.  Both my daughter and my granddaughter have always been surrounded by hopeful spirits, waiting until they got their act together and helped them cross into the light. Alas, that hasn’t happened yet and I fear it never will if one or the other won’t embrace the undead, the abnormal or at the least, the very existence of the spirit world.”

Spike moved further back into the shadows as the priest looked around the ground floor of the house, his rosary beads in hand as he muttered some kind of incantation.

A floorboard creaked and the priest’s eyes shot to where Spike was ensconced.

“Hello?” The priest called moving to the stairs and looking up into the gloom.

……

“Buffy, baby, what happened to you? Please tell me, you’re scaring me.” Joyce said Buffy sobbed in her arms.

“I-It was awful, mom, he had this nasty face and these huge fangs!” She yelped, her voice thick with tears. “He was normal and then he turned, just like that!”

“Oh, baby, it was a bad dream is all, you were sleeping and you dreamt it. Hush, your mommy’s here now.”

Buffy stiffened as her mother said it must have been a dream, not because she wasn’t believed but because she realized that Spike hadn’t meant for it to happen. He could’ve shown his true face to her at any time since they’d met if she’d only asked. He’d always promised he’d never hurt her and he’d told her how her room had been protected by the woman who’d lived in the house before, his friend. She wouldn’t have protected him if there wasn’t good reason, would she? He hadn’t pounced on her and he’d kind of been smiling at her, unsettling as that had been. She gulped back her shocked tears and tried to think rationally. If she told her mother the truth what would happen to him? He’d be killed, exorcised or whatever they did to vampires, staked through the heart, thrown into running water or his head chopped off. No! She couldn’t allow that, she wouldn’t tell.

“Honey, why don’t you have a cup of this lovely tea the father has made? It’ll settle your nerves.” Joyce said as she ushered her daughter to a seat at the dining table.

It had only been twelve hours since she had met the vampire and there were so many things Buffy didn’t know about him, seeing his true face had only been the beginning. He had been alive for over a century and there would be a lot to learn. She knew she would have to find him and apologize in order to get to know him.

…..

Father Michael was startled as the young woman of the house scooted past him and ran up the stairs as he peered into the darkness. He couldn’t be sure, but as she passed him he could have sworn upon the bible that he’d seen a shadow move swiftly into the West Wing of the house. Blinking several times, he eventually turned and headed back to the kitchen to find Joyce sipping her tea and staring out of the window. 

…

“Mrs. Summers, I wouldn’t want to worry you, but I have the strangest feeling about this house. You now, I’m not one to make a fuss about these things but I feel it may need a cleansing ritual. Think of it as a religious spring clean, just to make the atmosphere feel a little better.”

Joyce looked at him fearfully, it was like living with her mother all those years ago, weird little rituals and visions. She would have said it was all rubbish but then she had only seen a vision of her mother that past evening and it should have opened her up to more possibilities than she may have considered in the past.

“I’m not a believer, father, not a religious person. I dabbled with Buddhism when we travelled through Asia but it never really caught. Do you feel this is really necessary?”

“I’m just suggesting that this is an old house, Mrs. Summers and I’d be happy to help. I don’t want to be dramatic but it just doesn’t feel quite right to me. I’m not suggesting anyone would be harmed here…”

“If there really is no need then why bother?” Joyce interrupted him mid flow, “I don’t mean to be rude father but I have a lot of work to do here, I’ve driven through the night and need to get some sleep before the contractors get here. Thank you for the tea.”  

The father studied her for a moment, giving her a look of disappointment as he conceded. “Of course, Mrs. Summers, I certainly wouldn’t want to hold you up. If you need me I can be found most days at St. Dunstan’s church in town. Good day, Mrs. Summers.” 

“Good day, Father.” Joyce replied tiredly, watching as the priest paused in the lobby and looked to the second floor momentarily before continuing his way.

Joyce let out an involuntary shiver, before she went about making breakfast.

…..

Buffy found no-one in her room, well, no-one she could see anyway. She felt afraid to go to the closet. It was all well and good having a tiny ghost child living in your room but quite another to seek it out and make contact. The thought gave her the heebie jeebies.

“Spike?” She whispered urgently as she checked under the bed and behind the curtains, berating herself as vampires couldn’t hide behind curtains in daylight, stupid Buffy.

He wasn’t there and if he wasn’t there, then there was only one other place he could be; the attic.

**1606**

The boy could feel fear thrumming through him. Dark hands grabbed for him as he turned away from the light. As soon as the radiance faded he felt like he was in the presence of something truly terrifying and he raced through the house he was working on at the time of his death in his haste to escape them.

He would and could have followed the light if it hadn’t been for the voices, the beautiful sounds which lured him away from crossing into the light. The angelic voices which now sounded like the demons he’d been warned of by his mother and the parish priest, something good turned evil and unclean. Even the small boy knew his choice had been a mistake, all those Sunday’s, wriggling in itchy clothing at church told him that the lord had a place for him, that he would come for him when the time was right. He felt him come but he didn’t know who was the lord when he found himself at the devil’s crossroad.

It had all been so confusing, the voices convinced him to follow them and he had been conflicted, having only moments to decide which path to take and realizing very soon after that decision had been made that it was a silly mistake he couldn’t go back on.  

“Thomas!” A voice echoed, sounding like many low and menacing voices speaking at once. Whispers sounded around him as he darted this way and that. “Come to us, Thomas, be one with us.”

“N-no!” Tommy demanded, hands on his tiny hips in defiance and tear streaked face set in determination to do anything but join the grumbling, dreadful mass which coveted him.

Reaching a dead end in the attic he screamed as the mass crept closer, shadowed fingers and tendrils creeping towards him.

He held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut. “No, please don’t, I-I want my mummy! Where are you, mummy? Don’t let them hurt me!” He shrieked, all the while knowing that calling for his mummy would be fruitless, he was a small boy but he knew what side of the veil he now resided on.

The mass inched towards the boy and came to a halt as a door banged and voices were heard below.

Tommy heard voices within the mass hissing and chattering.

“The Master has returned…”

“The boy can wait, we have time for the boy, only time…”

“We must get to the Master; the Master must die…”

“Leave the boy, leave him, he can wait…”

“He is trapped here with us, he cannot leave…”

The mass vanished and left the sobbing boy alone in the attic.

……

**1606 – Elsewhere in the house**

The Master had resided in the house during the years it had taken to build it, safely ensconced in the cellar while a flurry of activity took place above him. His vampire militia saw to it that every person within a ten-mile radius of the town was afraid of opposing him on where he built his new home. He relished the fact he would build over such a place. Its misery seeped through the land and he revelled in the knowledge that most of the victims where because of him and the loved ones of those who lay in the pit below the house where so terrified of him they had willingly given up their work in the fields and come to help him finish the house. Many starved to death or died in accidents while the house was being built and the Masters only promise to the townsfolk was that he would not kill them and drain them while they did his bidding. Of course, he knew the stone slabs surrounding the house would run with blood when the house was finished. His slaves thought they would be free to leave once the house was complete.

He was beginning to tire of this place, it was so like many other places within England, the prey was skinny and undernourished, the people lived like pigs and pestilence meandered the once lush lands, it’s cold, needy fingers strangling the life out of the realm.

Tales of the new world reached him, even here and a trip to the colonies intrigued him. He loved anywhere where misery was rife and he had been told it was a very hard life for humans, a trip to Virginia sounded delightful.

“What is this?” The Master roared, as the black mass crept down the stairs towards him. Stooping above his head, clinging to the ceiling. “You told me you’d got rid of this nuisance!”

A minion bowed before him, “Sire, we had a protection spell placed upon you but all of the witches, sorcerers and necromancers we brought here could not rid the house of them. They have placed protective charms on the house, to stop the others from getting to you and there was one who promised, a gypsy woman who said she had the skills to rid the house of this pest but she does not return to these parts until summer.”

“These idiots do not try hard enough! Bring them back, they shall die trying and can be fodder for my minions. I want this spirit gone or I shall begin dusting you one by one. I am your Master and I will be obeyed!”  

The minions ran in terror to hide behind the staircase. Usually when the Master began talking of dustings it was never a threat, more of a promise.

“Oh, I see, you think you can hide from your master now? Let me tell you…!” He said, moving towards his terrified minions.

The door opened behind them and leaves began to blow inside the house in a whirlwind. A low evening sun peeked over the horizon and the Master hissed as he moved into the shadows away from the destructive light.

An old crone stood in the doorway, dressed in a black hooded cloak, which rippled in the winter wind.

“I am Eleanora and I have been summoned to assist you for thirty pieces of silver, had I known it was to serve filthy Shilmulo (vampire/ walking undead), then I would’ve asked for more!”

“Madam,” The Master said charismatically from the gloom, his clawed hands undulating and blood red eyes gleaming. “If you rid this house of this blight, you shall have thirty pieces of gold.”

The elderly woman grinned a greedy, toothless grin. “Well, that’s more like it, Shilmulo, show me where to start.”

…..

**Present Day – The attic**

Buffy eased the door open to the attic, its brass hinges creaking as she walked hesitantly to the upper level. The sun streamed in through the dirty arched windows, dust motes floating through the air like dandelions in seed blown by a small child as they made a wish.

She peered over the banister, her eyes watchful as she looked for the resident vampire.

“Spike?” She uttered.

A bird fluttered its wings in the dusty, whitewashed, eaves as it made its way to the window, the sounds of its wings flapping into the distance.

With her heart hammering, she squinted into the gloom at the end where Spike’s room was, seeing the door closed as she ascended the steps.

As Buffy neared the door she felt a presence and she wasn’t altogether sure it was Spike. The hackles rose on her neck, she wasn’t alone, she just knew it.

“H-hello?” She ventured.

“Hello.” She heard her own voice echo back at her, as though someone was repeating what she’d said. “I-is somebody there?”

“Is somebody there?” reverberated back to her, sounding like it was mocking her.

The air began to vibrate, as though something invisible to the naked eye was heading towards her like a whirlwind. She felt the pressure of something halting right before her as she fumbled for the handle to the door against her back.

“Pretty, pretty, I love a comely wench, all the better for the taking.” A voice with an Irish lilt said in her ear. She wrinkled her nose at the sour and revolting smell that flooded her senses.  

She wanted to scream but it was trapped in her chest as her throat chose that moment not too allow it to voice itself. This didn’t last long as she felt cold, icy fingers brush her neck, inching lower to the very edge of her breast. At that she let out a shriek which could’ve woken the dead had a hand not covered her mouth as she was dragged into the room within.

Spike booted the door closed with a crash as he almost threw Buffy down the trap-door on the floor in his room, jumping in after her and slamming the hatch down. 

“Go, pet, just run, they’re comin’ after us and there’s nothing I can do to protect you if they get us here.”

“Spike!” Buffy yelped, her arms flailing in the dark, “I can’t see!”

“Oh, bollocks I’d bloody forgotten that! Here jump on my back, sweetheart.” He turned offering for her to ride piggy back as the room above was decimated and a roar of fury sounded like it was seconds away.

Spike ran the length of the tunnel and, hearing silence he slowed for a moment to listen. The others thrived on fear and often backed off when they got it, fear was like an elixir to them. He didn’t feel the age-old wood of the boards below them give way until he felt them both crashing through the floor into the basement in a tangle of limbs, bugs and dust, small pieces of wood dropping through the hole as he attempted to recover his senses.

He heard a groan beside him as Buffy tried to rise. “Buffy? You ok, pet?”

“Spike, I’m afraid and I can’t see. M-my ankle, I’ve hurt my ankle.” She wept.

He scrambled around the dark room, sensing rats who had once been a hearty meal swarming away, disturbed by the ruckus and the presence of a predator. They’d soon be back and Spike needed something to see Buffy properly, his night sight was good but not good enough to see her injuries. Finding a box of matches he struck one and moved to Buffy, “It’s OK, love, I’ll help you, I would never hurt you.” Spike swore as he caressed her face.

“No, but I might me laddo.” A voice came from the darkness. The match nearly met the highly flammable vampire’s fingers and he cursed as he dropped it to the brick floor of the basement, not wanting to meet a toasty death.

“Spike w-who was that?” Buffy whimpered.

Spike lit another match, holding it high turning to look behind him in the darkness.

“Oh, fuck! H-how?”

The last thing he saw before he was launched across the room was Angelus’ features, face as black as tar as it dripped and wept murky goo.

“Spike?” Buffy yelled, pushing her body against the nearest wall. It was pitch black and she was like a kitten blind in its first days on earth, not even able to make out a shadow.

She heard a rustling sound near her and held out her hand hoping Spike was there to save her. That he wasn’t knocked out or, god forbid, dusted.

Her heartbeat was the only sound she heard as blood rushed through her ears. Please let it be Spike, please let it be him, she chanted in her head.

Moments passed in this indeterminate state as Buffy pushed down the urge to vomit and scream wildly.

B-boom, b-boom, b-boom, b-boom.

The match struck and illuminated the face before her.

“Boo!” 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hold your hand up if you wonder why you've been reading an NC17 fic for 18 chapters when you weren't 100% sure why it was rated NC17? *Holds own hand up* Well, now the good stuff is...err...coming.  
> This chapter has smut and I have no excuse for it, but it is a horror fic after all! LOL!

**Present Day**

Joyce knew she would sleep like the dead following her challenging night, she couldn’t admit how terrified she was to the priest and the conversation had been cut short by Buffy’s arrival in such a state she could hardly console her.

Something strange was going on and she was so weary, any investigation into what was going on would have to have to wait until she’d had at least a few hours’ sleep. She opened the cabinet in the bathroom, took out some sleeping pills and headed to bed. Surely things would seem a lot better when she woke?  

………

Buffy opened her mouth to let out a silent scream of terror as she saw the apparition before her in the flickering light of the match, held by icky tentacles. All she could see was its dripping jowls and surging, rippling pitch dripping to the floor. Wickedness seeped from its every pore.

“Hello, little girl,” A face within the mass said with liquid tar pouring from its mouth as it spoke. It ignored her grimace and her head turned so close to the wall it was almost as if she wished it to suck her in and take her away. “My, my, aren’t you a pretty one.” The entity leered.

“We want the girl, Angelus…” One said.

“Hush you feckin’ simpering lot, a little busy here.”

“But we must have the girl to help us into the light….” Another growled.

“Get the girl, capture her…” The third said excitedly.

“She has the gift, she must release us…” One more said adamantly.

The match went out and Buffy choked back a sob. 

…………..

“Get my granddaughter and I’ll rid this place of them for now!” He heard an urgent voice demand as he woke, Spike’s head banged like a motherfucker and he couldn’t tell who was at his side until he felt the warmth of sunshine flow through his veins.

“Ugghh,” Spike groaned, as his hands shot up to cradle his aching head.

“Spike! Wake up or you are going to lose her! You promised me you’d protect her! Get up, right now or so help me, I’ll…!”

“Alright, bloody hell woman, ‘m on it!”

…

Buffy’s mind went black as she almost passed out in terror, she trembled, her eyes squeezed so tightly shut she wondered if her interlaced lashes might be melded shut forever.  

Her head buzzed and she felt a cold hand grasp at her sore ankle, “No, no, no, no, Please!” She yelled, scrambling away as it tugged her back.

“For fucks sake, Buffy!” She heard a familiar hiss at her side, “Don’t bloody fight me, love!”

…

The room lit up like a Christmas tree, with sparks of green and red as Spike made his way carefully on hands and knees across the floor.

Buffy had curled into a ball as she cowered in the corner.

“Come on, we’ve gotta go!” Spike said urgently as he all but dragged her to the door, Buffy fighting him all the way.

...

“You have no power here, unclean spirits!” The room warped and a tornado like wind sped through the room as Grace stood at its center, her arms wide, with a determined look set upon her aged features. A golden light halo’s her body, she looked like an angel.

The entity laughed its macabre mix of voices in various pitches as if amused by Grace’s impudence.

_“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, May the wind blow you wandering ghosts and clear the world of the living, turn you to where you belong and may you disappear without a trace.”_

This Grace repeated several times until the entity screamed in fury and evaporated. 

Grace wasn’t so green as to think the foul fellows were gone for good with a simple wiccan spells she had picked up over the years as part of her arsenal, but for now it was enough to disperse them and give her and Spike time to re-group.

There was a need to have a human power dispel the others for good and unless Buffy was willing to embrace her power then another would need to be engaged.

Grace had been unable to believe how easily her daughter had dismissed the offer of help by the local priest. A cleansing, even in lieu of an exorcism, would have helped for now, it would have brought them more time. Something told Grace that the others were gaining strength and becoming more devious and next time she was afraid her skills would not be enough to stop them.

Buffy had to be made to see her own gifts. Grace decided, now was the time to show herself.

_…._  
  


“Oh, Pet,” Spike said gently, pushing Buffy back against the wall and inspecting her for injuries as they exited the cellar, “Oh, Buffy, thank god you’re safe! I thought we were both goners’ back there!”

Buffy stared at Spike as he panted, his eyes wide like he couldn’t believe he had her there before him.

“Come on, sweetheart, we’ve gotta get out of here, sounds like world war three is beginning!” He said urgently, heading for the staircase.

“I’m afraid.”

“I know your afraid pet, I’ll keep you safe, haven’t I always promised I would?”

“No,” she said walking forward and caressing his face, until her body only inches away from his. He could hear her body thrumming, her heart hammering and observed the flush of pink upon her cheeks. When she looked up at him and he could see her wide blown pupils. ‘Now you’re gettin’ it mate’ he said to himself, this girl was like a walking poster girl for sexual tension, her panting breath like a siren calling to him.

“I’m not afraid of these, these specter thingy’s. I can cope with them as long as I have you. What I’m afraid of, Spike,” she paused as she moved even closer and placed her hands upon his cool biceps, her chest now flush with his. He could feel the indent of her hardened nipples on his abs, the heat from her body warming him like nothing he’d ever experienced, “Is having to leave this house and never finding anyone who makes me feel the way you do, like I could just burst into flames from one of your looks.”

“Buffy, you’re in shock, love, you can’t mean this right now.” He said, his restraint barely holding as the sweet waft of her breath met his nostrils.

“I don’t wanna die a virgin, Spike, what’s just happened has convinced me of that. I want you to, to…” She paused for an excruciating moment as he waited with baited breath for what she was going to ask of him. “I want you to, m-make love to me.” She asked shyly, her eyes dropping to his chest, as if she couldn’t find it in her to watch his response. She fingered a button on his shirt. 

Spike knew his response to her would never be no, he’d decided from the moment her met her he wanted to love her with everything he had but he wasn’t sure now was the time. Things in the house were going crazy and even if Grace managed to rid the basement of the others, he wasn’t sure she could keep them at bay for long. Then there was the matter of Tommy in Buffy’s closet, the poor boy couldn’t be subjected to what went on between he and Buffy, especially as once Spike got his hands on her he wasn’t sure he would have much control.

Buffy trembled and he hugged her closer. “Buffy, you don’t know what you’re askin’ of me, god, I want that more than anythin’ in the world but ‘s not safe here, not safe anywhere in this house.”

A sob heaved her chest and she tried to pull away.

“You don’t want me! I laid my emotions bare to you and you don’t want me, I’m such a fool!” She said, her voice choked with emotion.

“Are we havin’ two conversations here, love? I said I want you, I jus’ said it’s not safe.” What was it with women and their ability to hear what they wanted to hear? it was exasperating!     

“No.you.don’t! Let.me.go!” She yelped petulantly while pummeling her fists against his chest, struggling and wriggling against him. This action was the undoing of him, he was overtaken by lust, need and intense anger that wouldn’t listen to him. He shoved her into the dark space under the staircase, caging her in by placing one hand on the wall either side of her head.

“Want you Buffy, never wanted anything more.” He croaked, his voice cracking in desperation as he tried to make her understand how he needed her, how he could never think of not having her there by his side. In what way could he tell her his life had been nothing until she’d come along? That she had become his whole world in such a short space of time and it scared him half to death.

Buffy’s breath was coming in short gasps as he moved to take hold of her wrists, stopping her from attacking him and holding her arms to her sides as he moved closer. Leaning into her ear, he uttered, “Do you hear me now? I want you so badly I can’t see straight.”

….

She didn’t know whether it was the shock of what had happened in the basement or the strain of the past few days but she knew she’d acted like a brat to the only person who had been there for her since the beginning of this horrible nightmare, the one person who had stuck up for her and attempted to keep her safe. She’d felt the keen sting of rejection when she thought he’d said no to her offer. She wasn’t a girl who came right out and asked guys if they wanted to sleep with her but Spike was different, he listened to her, he looked at her like she was the sunshine to his dark night. She had been terrified and wanted to feel needed, she wanted him to show her how much he cared, even though all those movies she’d watched said a relationship born of a situation like this could never work.   

Now, he had her pinned against the wall and all his ardent fervor was sending electric sparks throughout her body, just by his closeness. She could smell his scent and feel his hard body against hers, it made her throb with need. She felt her legs buckle a little as he whispered in her ear.  

…

She let out a gorgeous sigh as his hands moved from her wrists sensually down to the curve of her bottom, pulling her hips forward sharply to grind his erection into her core. If she wouldn’t believe he wanted her then there was proof enough in how hard he was for her right at that moment.

His brain shorted out at the very feel of her, god, her heat burned him like nothing he’d ever felt before, his Buffy was scorching fire to his chilled skin, he almost expected to see steam rise as he touched her.

Her head fell back, her throat exposed to him as her chest rose and fell along with her rapid breaths.

Threading his hand through the hair at the nape of her neck, he pulled her face to his. Her eyes glittered like a galaxy of stars lay within and her eyelashes fluttered. He touched the gentle curve of her upper lip with his own, tasting the delicate hint of perspiration on her cupid’s bow before nipping her lower lip playfully.

His other hand trailed up her abdomen to her breasts, enclosing one in his hand and thumbing a hardened peak through the thin material of her shirt.

….

‘Oh, god, oh god, oh god’ she chanted within her head as he began to caress her body, then her breasts. Never had a man been bothered enough to take his time to touch her in this way, apart from being groped like a piece of meat by the previous men, no boys, in her life. They didn’t deserve to be called men as they were childish and selfish in their need for self-gratification. Not like Spike, he moved sensually and carefully, his ministrations measured, almost like he was awaiting her reactions as he stroked every part her. He watched her with hooded eyes and cocked his head as she whimpered.

She took in a large lungful of air as his hand moved lower over her lower stomach, his fingers popping open the button on her jeans.

The chant in her mind began again as his cool hand entered her panties, she felt a mini panic as he found her dripping core, she was so wet down there she wondered if she was normal. She tensed slightly as Spike groaned.

“You’re so bloody wet for me, love, is it all for me? Tell me you’re wet for me.” He begged, his voice deep, masculine, graveled to the point of hoarseness.

She heard herself moan as he began to circle her nubbin, the place she sometimes touched in the depths of night when her mom was asleep, rubbing herself in her secret place until she came by her own fingers. It was a different experience having another do that for her, so erotic, so…so…she couldn’t think of the word as streams of sparks shot through her body, a feeling of absolute pleasure unfurling in her lower belly,” Oh my god, Spike, don’t stop.” She implored as he plundered her mouth, his tongue rolling over hears in and age-old lovers battle.

…

Fuck, his girl was ready and waiting to be taken right there, her sweet puss was wet, slippery and just damn gorgeous to the touch, he couldn’t wait to taste her and dropped to his knees before her, easing her jeans down. He’d have to be quick, he knew Joyce was asleep as he had heard her even breathing in the room above but who knew if they would get caught out in a moment of passion by something more sinister? Slipping off her sneaker he removed one leg of her jeans and tossed her leg over his shoulder, diving in to sup at the source of her honey. What sweet ambrosia was this? Over the years he’d been a vampire, never had he tasted such gratifying elixir and it was well worth the wait.

She invoked such feelings in him he wondered if he might shoot his spendings all over the inside of his jeans. What he wouldn’t do to have his cock buried inside her now, but that wouldn’t do, he absolutely would not take the girls virginity under a stairwell. No, she would be taken care of properly when he broke her maidenhead, he would make her see so many stars when he eased into her that she would never feel the pain of her broken membrane. This was merely a sweetener.

He slipped a finger inside her and felt her tightness pulse around it, she was close and he doubled his efforts, suckling on her clit as his finger circled her entrance.

….

She felt him remove her jeans and panties and expected to find him standing before her again. What she experienced was a whole lot different. He had put his mouth ‘there’ and gone to town, making delighted moans as he did. There wasn’t time to be nervous or feel embarrassed as she was swept off on a wave of ecstatic bliss, all the while her brain constantly chanting as it had all along. All she could feel was his tongue and fingers swirling, lapping and suckling over her and it felt perfect, like she never wanted him to move from his place on his knee’s before her, but the rocket into space was waiting to blast off and was on a fast countdown. Time slowed and she felt like she was in stasis, pleasure blinding her, as her body rocked with new sensations. She bit her lip to stop herself from screaming as she ricocheted out into the ether, spinning for moments until she came back to her herself.

“That was…was…” There were no words, she thought.  

She didn’t need to find them as her vampire stood shakily before her, licking his fingers before kissing her soundly.

It seemed so weird that this had only been third base but yet seemed so incredibly intimate, like Spike has made love to her with his mouth. Is this what making love was like? Why people raved about it and she had never been able to understand why, until now?

“Now do you believe me, love?” He chuckled catching her straying hand as she reached for the bulge in his pants. “Plenty of time for that later, pet, right now we need to get you to safety.

…..

Grace arrived at the nursery at the same time as Buffy and Spike, she gave Spike a knowing look as she looked at her blushing granddaughter. Tommy ran to grasp Grace’s hand and became visible. The little boys lower lip trembled, “I wanted to help you but nana Grace told me to stay here.”  

The motherly figure smiled warmly at the boy who had taken to calling her nana Grace, he was alone and he should have someone to care for him.  The boy had wandered unseen for too long, his choice to stay had made him almost invisible but Grace intended to right that at some point, to send him to his loved ones who surely anxiously awaited his coming. This sweet child must have been missed by someone.

Buffy’s eyes widened, as she looked the smartly dressed older woman. “Wait. Don’t I know you?” She said peering at the woman’s face.

“Looks like the cats out o’ the bag, Gracey, best spill your guts.” Spike advised.

“Spike? Who is this?” Buffy said fearfully, “She isn’t real, is she?”

“I’m as real as someone dead can be darling,” Grace said kindly, “You do know me, Buffy, you know me because I have been with you all your life my little one. You know me because I am your grandmother, Grace, and I passed the very day you were born.”

Buffy’s mouth opened as if she was about to say something but she slammed it shut before looking wildly at Spike.

Spike rubbed his face with both hands and wondered how he would explain this one.

How many more shocks could the girl take?


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life isn't a bed of roses for our Spike and Buffy but they take some time out for a little fun in this chapter. Oh, and somebody pays a very unwelcome visit...

** 1604 **

“Just kill the old crone, if she cannot rid the house of this irritation then we shall simply move on to another. I’ve heard the colonies give much scope for the likes of us. A whole colony disappeared without a trace at Roanoke, we could take such a colony for ourselves. It sounds like a wonderful adventure. Engage a ship for us and make sure it is well packed with humans, we will need to sustain ourselves through the journey.”

“But sire, what about the humans here? The ones working on the house?” A lowly minion tasked with overseeing the work of the human workforce asked. 

“The house is finished, is it not?” The Master said, flicking his hand in irritation. 

“Yes, sire, just some finishing touches to be made by the stone masons.”

“Then send them back to the fields, time will tell whether they starve to death, now leave me and make preparations.”

………………………………….

** Present Day **

“May I come into your room, dear?” Grace asked softly, taking in the spooked look on her granddaughter’s face.

Buffy looked to Spike who nodded and laughed as Tommy pulled the elder ghost into the room, “This is my cupboard, nana Grace.” He giggled as he showed her his safe place. 

“That is certainly something, little Tommy. Now, I must talk with Buffy, so perhaps you could play for a while?” 

Tommy bit his lip, but did as he was asked, disappearing once he let go of Grace. Buffy watched the old rocking horse in the corner of the room as it rocked of its own accord, it was most disconcerting.

Buffy sat on the edge of the bed and she felt the bed dip as Spike sat beside her, entwining his fingers in hers and soothing her palm with his thumb. She stared at him and in the strangest of situations a thought popped into her head, she must cut his hair for him, it had grown out of control. She ran her hand through it affectionately and he leaned into her hand, letting out an involuntary purr which made her giggle. He smiled and squeezed her hand, letting her know he was there with her.

“Buffy, my darling, I know this must come as somewhat of a shock but I’m here to tell you I have always been near, I have always kept an eye on you throughout your life. This…” she sighed and looked above her head, “This house is not a place you should be, it is a place of evil, a place of lost souls. I know you have…feelings for Spike, but neither of you will be safe here unless you leave, dear.”

Buffy clutched at Spike, “L-leave? I can’t leave, I won’t leave Spike here alone! Spike, tell her! Please tell her I won’t leave you.” She cried out, tears rolling down her cheeks. “And even if I could, how would I explain to mom why we had to leave, there are months left of the project!” Buffy began to panic, only months left with Spike, then she’d have to leave, there was no way to stay here, it was owned by the movie studio.” She began to sob.

“Hush, pet, we’ll sort somethin’ before then, I haven’t got a bloody clue what yet, but I’ll find a way to be with you if that’s what you want, baby.” He took her in his arms and stroked her hair until her sobs subsided.

“There is another way, Buffy.” Grace said tenderly, wishing she could be the one to console her granddaughter. It was lovely to be able to see her and talk to her but she would never be a true grandmother to the girl, not if she couldn’t even hug her and soothe her tears. This was harder than she’d thought. 

Buffy looked up at her hopefully with puffy and blood shot eyes.

“You have a gift, my darling girl, a gift I believe to be more powerful than my own. Tell me, have you seen things throughout your life you never thought possible? Have you seen those who have not yet crossed over to the light? Those who are in limbo?”

Buffy nodded, “I have but I was afraid, so afraid as I didn’t know what it meant, I ignored them and eventually they no longer bothered me.”

“Darling, you’ve closed your mind off and with that you have lost any power to help the poor lost souls move into the light.”

“I-I could do that?” Buffy said, her eyes wide. 

“You could do that, you could help the others go to their rightful place too. They are in limbo here. I’ve used whatever power I have to rid this place of them but they must leave this place once and for all. A human life force is what they seek to make themselves more powerful but what they don’t know is that one such as yourself can help them cross. I’m afraid the light isn’t always where these spirits may go, sometimes it can hard to convince them to move on because they are afraid of where they may end up. For example, a serial killer will likely cross into darkness and be taken on by demons to a place they deserve, whereas someone who killed someone by accident may deserve redemption. It is not our call to make, it is only out job to help them cross, for them to be judged by the powers that be.”

A look of terror crossed her features and Grace felt sorry for the girl, this had all come as a terrible shock. Grace’s own grandmother had been alive when she was a girl and she herself, had been a medium, working in a circus as a fortune teller and helping others cross over. When Grace had seen her first spirit, she had been there to guide her and show her the old ways. Grace herself had been terrified too, a young girl who saw dead people. She had to impart the wisdom to Buffy and train her to use her gift. 

“I’d like to work with you, Buffy, to help you use your gift but I fear today you are too exhausted this evening to do so. The others will stay away for now but I would like you to seek out the priest in the village tomorrow and tell him what has been happening here, he can perform a cleansing of the house which will pave the way for you to assist the others in moving on.  You’ll need to get your mother out of the way or explain to her what’s been happening. I leave the decision up to you, although I warn you, my Joyce was never one for accepting what was right in front of her face. She has run all of her life from it and I can’t foresee that changing now.” She rose to leave and called to Tommy, “Tommy, you will come with me tonight, we will go to Spike’s room, you must not be afraid, the others won’t come back this night.” She held her hand out to the boy who clasped it eagerly. “Spike, might I have a word?” Grace said as they crossed the threshold. 

Spike rose and kissed Buffy’s hand before leaving the room with Grace. “Spike, make her happy, not too happy if you catch my meaning. Buffy’s power lies in her purity and for her to be able to fight back and lead them to cross over, she must remain intact, I think you know what I mean.”

Spike ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “Yeah, o’ course, Gracey, she will be.”

As he closed the door, his stomach clenched, how in the hell was he going to resist shagging the poor girl after what had happened between them earlier that afternoon. He would just have to distract her.   

…..

“Hold still I said,” Buffy giggled in the bathroom. “I can’t do it if you keep wriggling.”

“It feels like its bleedin’ burning my scalp off!” Spike said irritably, staring at the remnants of his long locks on the floor. “What are you doin’ anyway? Feels like you’ve scalped me and tried to burn my head off!” He continued, annoyed that he couldn’t see his reflection. 

“It’s gonna be epic, Spike, you’re gonna be such a hottie.” She smiled, painting his head with the little white plastic brush, her hands covered in translucent gloves. 

“Seems strange, love, that someone would put something on their head when they have to wear gloves on their hands to protect their skin.”

“It’s just bleach, I use it sometimes when my roots won’t cover properly.” Buffy tittered as he grumbled.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not a natural blonde, love?”

“You know I’m not, silly.” She said, blushing profusely and tapping him on the head with the brush.

Spike chuckled, always amused at how easily he made her flush that gorgeous shade of scarlet at the suggestion of anything naughty. This was nice, just being able to spend time with her and revel in her attention, whatever she was doing to his head. His hair had been so long and unkempt, he’d been glad to get rid of it. His head felt deliciously light and he just hoped she wasn’t making him look like a complete wanker. He loved watching her every movement, how she bit her lip while she was applying the bleach and how her warm breasts brushed over his body as she moved around him. He could cope with the mild burn and he adored how she giggled while she happily applied the solution. 

“Just a while longer, then you can get in the shower and wash it off.” She said, tidying away the mess. 

Spike’s lower lip jutted out and he grasped her waist, rubbing his erection into her buttocks, smiling as she let out a sweet gasp. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to wash it all off by myself, sweetheart.” He chuckled, his lips drifting across the back of her neck as he reveled in the way he made her tremble as he pulled her tightly towards him. He was his own worst enemy, he thought as he reluctantly released her, Grace had warned him not to take her virginity to keep her safe, he just wasn’t sure what restraint he could muster while she was all warm, happy and just so damn delectable.

“We can’t, my mom will be awake soon and she’ll want me to make dinner.” Buffy pouted.

Spike frowned at the thought of not being near her for the next few hours but began to strip as Buffy’s timer went off. Her eyes went as huge as saucers as he lowered his pants, “See somethin’ you like, pet?” He said lustfully, chuckling as she pretended to be busy getting him a towel. Turning on the shower, he stepped under the flow, with a groan, only to see Buffy staring at him, suckling on her little finger, towel clutched in her hand. He laughed and shook his head under the flow, rinsing the bleach from his head. He suddenly yelled out, “Oh, god, help me! I’m blinded!” as he clutched his eyes and moaned in mock pain.

There was a flurry of activity as Buffy fetched a towel tried to help him, “Oh my god! Spike! Spike, are you OK?” She said tearfully patting his eyes with the towel.

She was close enough for him to grasp hold of her waist with one arm and haul her, fully dressed, into the stall with him, before kissing her senseless.

“Spike, you, you, idiot! That was so evil!” She said fighting him off and slapping at his chest as she became drenched, her top clinging to her and giving him a delectable view of the peaks of her breasts. 

“Never said I wasn’t,” he snickered, kissing her deeply while pushing her against the shower wall, trapping her wrists with one hand above her head and opening the button on her jeans. She moaned as he reached into her panties and massaged her clit with his fingers, god he loved that sound. He would keep it in his pants as far as possible but it didn’t mean he didn’t want to watch his beautiful girl cum again and again on his fingers, his mouth, anything but his cock inside her, for now at least. Grace couldn’t possibly expect the girl to remain virgo intacta forever. As she began to lose herself, he whispered in her ear, “That’s it sweetheart, I’ve got you.” He placed a hand over her mouth as she came undone around his skilful fingers with a muffled cry. It wouldn’t do for Joyce to hear her daughter shrieking in the bathroom.

…………….

** Later that same day **

“Honey, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep so long.” Joyce said as she plodded tiredly into the kitchen in her pyjamas and robe hanging open, its belt trailing across the floor behind her.

“Oh, mom, are you OK?” Buffy said, hugging her mom and ushering her to a chair. 

“Do you know, I’m not sure, I feel a little…strange. I slept for hours and I feel groggy, perhaps I’m coming down with what Piper has, she called me earlier and told me she has the flu.”

“Well, perhaps it’s best for you to go back to bed, mom, I can make you chicken soup and crackers and I’ll bring the TV up for you to watch in bed.”

“Baby, you are the best daughter a mother could wish for, have I ever told you that?”

“You know I love you mom,” Buffy said, drawing her mother into another big hug, “I missed you.”

“I think I will go back to bed, we have contractors coming in the morning and, without Piper, I need to keep the work on the house moving, it’ll never be finished on time.”

“I can help, mom, just tell me what you need me to do and I can get it ready, you know I can.”

“Yes, you can, my darling, I always trust you know what you’re doing.” Joyce said, allowing Buffy to help her back up the stairs to her room.

Buffy settled Joyce into bed and if she noticed the fact the TV was already in her room, she didn’t say so. Buffy’s heart soared as she knew Spike had set the room up for her mom, there was even an electric blanket heating the bed.

“You sleep, mom, I’ll come up in a few hours and bring you some soup and herbal tea.”

Joyce was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

………………….

** The Same Night – The Cock n’ Bottle Pub  **

“I feel terrible saying I’m sick when I’m too scared to go back, Kyle, who knows what’s happening in that creepy old place.” Piper shivered.

“Stop that bloody trammel, you daft apeth, who would expect you to go back there when you’re shittin’ bricks?” Kyle said, hugging his Pip close as he sipped his pint of brown. 

“I feel like I’m waggin’ it, if Joyce finds out, I’ll lose my job.” She said sadly. 

“Is that such a bad thing? Father Michael told me they refused his ‘elp.” Her boyfriend replied.

“Mayhap not, but I can’t stand the thought of them up in that house all alone with no-one to help if owt goes pear shaped.” 

The two felt comfortable enough discussing the situation down at Dead Man’s Reach as they sat near the fire in the empty pub. The door rattled as a gust of wind blew it wide open, the blustery night was kept at bay within the warmth of the pub until the wind swirled inside, blowing dead leaves wildly through the door and causing the fire to flicker and blow sparks across the room.

Kyle placed his drink down on the table and ran to close the door only to be greeted by a gorgeous blonde dressed in tight fitting jeans, a tasteful white blouse and smart black jacket. Her black high heeled boots crossed the threshold and he couldn’t help but hold the door open for her. The woman looked him up and down and gave him a coy look before turning to her brunette friend who was dressed in a long, goth style, crushed velvet dress. “Darling Dru, now who said there weren’t any gentlemen left here in England?” The blonde drawled in a soft, almost girlish, American accent, 

The brunette swayed gracefully into the pub behind her Grandsire and stared at the plump Landlord, “ Old fat spider spinning in a tree. Old fat spider can’t see me. Attercop! Attercop! Won’t you stop, stop your spinning and look for me!”

“Quite.” The blonde said with a nod of agreement before moving to the bar. “It’s been so long since I’ve been somewhere so very…quaint,” She clapped her hands gleefully, “A bottle of your richest red, kind sir and two glasses.” The blonde said, leaning forward over the bar as she tipped Kyle a sensual wink. 

….

Piper watched the whole scene with anger surging through her belly, she made her way over to Kyle and dipped under his arm, circling her arms around him possessively. The woman was almost laying across the bar, showing her tight, jean clad rear end for all to see and there was only Kyle in the bloody pub who might be interested. 

She felt him squeeze her to him, she knew he wasn’t a bloke who leered at other women, after all, he’d chased her for years. Oh, god, what if he was only after the chase? The blithering idiot might run off with the petite and compact blonde and leave her sobbing into her cornflakes by morning.

“Oh, I’m sorry darling, I hadn’t realized this fine hunk of a man was taken, please forgive me. We’ve come to work at the house down in the valley, we’re from the movie studio. My name is Darla O’ Connor and this is my sister, Dru.”

“The soft thing looked askance through the window: he possessed the power to depart as much as a cat possesses the power to leave a mouse half killed, or a bird half eaten.” The brunette uttered, swooping around the bar, dancing with her arms spread wide.

“My sister loves Wuthering Heights and I’m afraid she thinks she’s living the story. Let us buy you a few drinks and leave you to enjoy your evening.” The gorgeous blonde said, making no apology for her odd sister.

The blonde clutched Piper’s warm hands with her own cold ones. It must be a chilly night, Pip thought.

Piper heard Kyle agree to a drink enthusiastically and made up her mind she would give him hell later and tell him what a tosspot he was too. Sod it, she would have six brandies if the blonde hussy who’d attempted to crack on to her man was buying. Darla had the money if she could afford those gorgeous Louboutin boots!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one has a few more revelations for you.

**Present Day – Midnight**

Spike had been keeping watch over both Joyce and Buffy, just checking the others weren’t around. He stood before the glass doors in the lounge, the place he’d been left, abandoned, all those years before by his sire and Grandsire’s.

He ran his hands through his newly shorn hair as he peered out into the darkness. The moon passed through stratus clouds and revealed its beauty as it beamed across the hills leading down into the valley, lighting up the craggy rocks like a lighthouse signalling to those in peril. He blinked as a shadow came into view, there was definitely a human form standing upon the rock formations far above the hollow, just out of view. More clouds moved aside for the moonlight, like worshippers kneeling for a deity and the whole house was swathed in its angelic illumination. He held a hand to his brow in a salute as he peered into the darkness, the shadow was gone but it left him with a feeling of bitter dread in the pit of his gut and the fine hairs on his neck prickled.

“Lizzie,” he muttered, “God, pet, How I wish you were here to tell me what to do. You always bloody knew how to get us out of a mess.” He said sadly, “What can I do to protect her an’ her mum?”

Spike moved towards the huge antique fireplace, placing his hand on the mantel as he rubbed his chin. He had to come up with a plan to help Buffy, to help himself but in one hundred years he had never been able to come up with shit, he told himself. “Sorry, bleedin’ specimen, I am, can’t even protect my own, can’t even leave this bloody house to be with the girl I love, what soddin’ use am I?” He bit out in a controlled whisper. The ability to do nothing to help had his demon roaring in his head, telling him he must do something to save the woman they both adored, needed and wanted with every fibre of their being.

He banged his hand on the mantel in annoyance and turned to walk away. What was that? He wondered, the hollow sound from the mantel was curious, especially as when he walked back to knock upon the dark oak wood plane, it was not hollow all the way along as he soon found out by tapping its length. Walking back to the end he’d slapped with his hand in the beginning he began to look all around and underneath into the fire place, pushing at the underside with nimble fingers until he heard a click. His jaw went slack as a door in the wall creaked open….

……

**Present Day – Midnight, on the Hills above Dead Man’s Reach**

Darla stepped over Dru’s body as she rolled in the fragrant heather, her madness driven to fever pitch as they climbed the craggy hills but settling as she moaned in the strange way Darla had become accustomed to.

“Somebody run to the great gate and see if Dollie's coming! Wait! I hear her feet upon the stair! Death won't hurt—now Dollie's here!” Dru cried as the moon lit up the valley before them.

“Will you hush for a moment, dearest, I’m trying to listen and I can’t hear with your constant babbling.” Darla said, cocking her head. With her excellent sight could just about see the house but her vampiric auditory gift helped her hear the vague thump of two heartbeats within the house. She stepped closer sure she could see someone peering back at her through the glass doors leading to the front lawn.

“That sonofabitch is still there, I think, dearest, the one we’d hoped may have dusted by now.” Darla snarled, taking a step away into the shadows, it wouldn’t do to be seen before they even had a chance to make their grand entrance.

Dru rose to her knees and clasped Darla’s hand, tugging on it desperately. “My William, is it my William you speak of Grand mama?” Dru said, childlike, in her broken London accent.

“Will you let go!” Darla said, pulling her hand away in annoyance, causing Dru to fall back onto her bottom.

Dru began to whine and Darla rolled her eyes. “Am I ever to have any peace this century?” She sighed. “William may be there,” She said, walking to Dru and taking her chin in her hand roughly, “But we are not here for William, are we my darling Drusilla? We are here to find my Angelus and William can rot in that house until he is nothing but a walking skeleton for all I care.”

Drusilla’s face lit up at the mention of Angelus, “Do you think Daddy will beat me with a cat o’ nine tails?” She said, clapping her hands together, “I so enjoyed it the last time.

Darla took a look back at the house before heading to the car she had stolen from their dinner in the village. The old guys blood had tasted like day old rat blood but it had sustained them for now. They had to be careful to cover their tracks, no-one must know they were coming.

…..

**Present day – Midnight, The Secret Room**

Spike fumbled around in the room, brushing away cobwebs before leaving and heading to the kitchen for a flashlight, his sight was excellent but even vamps sometimes needed a little help.

“Bugger!” he said, flicking the button and finding it didn’t work. He tapped it on his palm a few times and grinned as the room was suddenly illuminated in an orange glow.

An antique writing desk and chair was set against the far wall and, as he swung the torch around the room he saw lots on ancient symbols adorning the grey Yorkshire brick inside. Water dripped from a broken pipe down the stone and he heard the scuttling of rats as they made a bid for freedom through a small hole in the wall.

Moving to the desk he saw books and papers piled high, yellowed by age and dust and as he looked more closely he found an envelope addressed to him sitting in the centre of the desk. To say he was surprised was an understatement.

Curiosity piqued, he placed the light down and picked up the envelope, recognising his best friends scrawl immediately. It was a sign! He’d asked Lizzie for help and she’d sent him a sign, he was sure of it.

_My Dearest Spike, my only true friend in this world. If you are reading this then I have gone and you will know I was heartbroken to have left you._

_My only hope if that you found this room and the research I undertook to help you escape this godforsaken house. I couldn’t tell you as I didn’t want to get your hopes up and the knowledge I would fail you miserably came towards the end, when I found out about my illness and my work had to stop._

_You always told me you knew every nook and cranny of this house and I always knew you would find this room, given time._

_I have come to the conclusion that the person who built this house was an evil doer, perhaps a worshipper of Satan or some other occultist as this room was almost as you find it today when I came across it myself as a curious child. Believe me, Spike, it scared me so much I couldn’t bring myself to re-enter it until I came back to the house after my parents died. I hoped it held the key to ridding the house of the awful terror within it but alas there was nothing to tell me what to do, or how to save my most precious of friends._

_There were times that I was glad you gave me my privacy, times when you slept like the dead (OK, you can allow yourself a chuckle at that but we must go back to the serious stuff now, I do not have the time to write war and peace!)_

Spike let out a tearful chuckle at that, his Lizzie was speaking to him from the grave and his eyes were eating up her words.

_I leave you the information I have gained so far, along with the hope you can find a way to leave this place, that some good soul will come to help you and I can truly rest at peace in the knowledge you were saved._

_God bless you, my friend, soul or not, you deserve to be free if only for the kindness and love you showed me. I know I shall miss you terribly, my darling._

_Forever Yours,_

_Elizabeth Beaumont._

Scrubbing away tears from his eyes, the papers looked blurred and all he could think of at that moment was his need to get back to Buffy, to hold her in his arms and let her take his every fear away. If he couldn’t find a way out of this place then she would be gone and he may as well dust himself or wait for the sun to come to just the right position within the house so he could walk into his ending. Without her there was nothing. He carefully folded Lizzie’s letter and placed it in the pocket of his jeans before making his way upstairs to Buffy’s room.  

……..

“Hmm,” she muttered in her sleep as he finally eased into her tiny bed beside her. His arms immediately clutching her too him as he buried his face in her hair, finally allowing tears to flow. He couldn’t give up, he would never give up, he had Buffy to fight for now and he had to do something more. He just hoped Grace would be able to help Buffy to learn the skills she needed to protect them all. Tomorrow, he would hit the books and see what he could find. Knowing Lizzie as he did, he could understand why she might keep the room from him. She spent her whole life trying to give him protection and couldn’t admit she’d failed him. Poor girl, he thought, my poor, poor girl.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter there are a few **trigger warnings** I'd like to advise you of before you continue. There are some parts in this one which show domestic violence and the loss of a baby when we go back into the past of an older character. If this is a trigger for you, please skip this one. 
> 
> All in all, this chapter moves the story along and provides more insight into some of the character's back stories, it is not intended to be horror for horror's sake.

**Present Day – After Midnight**

“Hmm, Spike?” She muttered, her sleepy voice, graveled.

“Yes, pet?” He’d lain awake for two hours after joining Buffy in bed, wondering whether to go back to the secret room and start work or stay in bed with his princess. Holding her was the best thing that had ever happened to him and he was loathed to miss a moment of it. To have someone, other than a friend, who would allow such a simple act was pure pleasure itself, let alone give him license to do all the things he wanted to her body as she moaned his name.

“I thought you’d gone, y-you weren’t here before when I turned over.”

“No, sweetheart, I was just checkin’ the house, you know, makin’ sure it was locked up and your mum was OK.” He muttered, pulling her closer and planting sweet kisses on her brow.

Buffy turned over onto her stomach and reached a hand up to cup his face. “Please don’t leave me, ever. I know I’m to blame for a lot of what’s happened. M-my Grandma, Grace, she said…” Buffy gulped as she tried to hold back tears, “She said I could’ve done more if I’d accepted my gift. I swear, Spike, If I’d known before now I would’ve done anything to make you safe, to make everybody safe.”

“None of that,” He said with a stern tone in his voice, “You didn’t know an’ I won’t have you thinkin’ you are the problem here. Your part of the solution, perhaps, love, but you were never responsible for what happened here. Grace was trying to help you, she’d never forgive herself if she knew you thought you were to blame, ‘s not you, ‘s never bin you, pet, you just need a bit of guidance from the old woman, she said she’d help you tomorrow, didn’t she?”

“Yeah. Yeah, she did. Spike?”

“Yes, princess.”

“I’m a little afraid of her.” Buffy admitted.

Spike kissed her cheek and hugged her tighter. “There really is no reason to be afraid, she’s your kin, she loves you and she always has. She’s just dead is all, an’ she’s not the only one here.” He chuckled.

“But what if I can’t?”

“Can’t do what, kitten?”

“What if I don’t have the gift she thinks I have? What if I can’t do those things she thinks I can do?”

“Well, I think, ole Gracie, is better placed to know that than me, sweet.”

“I don’t know her, what if we don’t get on?”

“She seems like a game old bird, Buffy, I think she is tellin’ the truth when she says she’s bin around you your whole life. If you want my opinion, she has probably protected you more than your own mother since you were a child. Least give her a chance, baby, jus’ talk to her tomorrow.”

“How did you get so wise about this stuff, locked away in this nasty old house for one hundred years?”

“Read a lot, bin through most of the stuff in the library, poetry, science, there’s a few old books on the occult even.” He said, rubbing his hardened cock against her thigh.

In the moonlight, he watched as she bit the corner of her lip and giggled. God, he adored that sound, it was like angels calling from heaven. He would never go there himself, his previous acts would never allow it, but being with this girl was just like he imagined it might be.

Buffy slid her hand down his back to clutch his bum and he squeezed his eyes closed, begging his body to retain control. He had no problem controlling the demon around her, his demon would get on his knees before her and worship her too. It was the man in him, the man who wanted to take this beauty and make her his own, to make love to her and make her feel that love in every way possible. Still he heeded Grace’s words.

“Err, Buffy?” He said through gritted teeth as her hot hands moved to stroke his cock through his jeans.

“Hmm?” She murmured, her pupils blown wide as she licked her lips.

“Gracie, she said somethin’ else earlier, err, she said we weren’t to…” He raised an eyebrow and gave her a knowing look.

Buffy frowned in the sweetest way, before pouting when she caught onto what he was saying. “Weren’t to what?” She said stubbornly as she ran her hands under his tee, caressing his hard abs.

This girl was going to ride him straight to hell if he let her. “Buffy,” He caught her wrists with both hands, “She said you had to remain a virgin or we couldn’t rid this house of the scourge within the house, said, your maidenhead was your power.”

She sat up, leaning back on her ankles, “My, uh, maidenhead? You mean we can’t, can’t…” A look of annoyance clouded her features.

“Look, it doesn’t mean we can’t do anythin’, petal, we just can’t do, err, how can I say this? We can’t go all the way, baby.”

“Do you know what, Spike? I’ve spent my life doing what others tell me and I want this with you! I want it now and I don’t want some ghosties telling me I can’t!” She struggled, pulling her arms out of his hold and standing, her arms crossed.

He sighed and got off the bed, “Do you think this is what I want, pet? I’d do anything to have you, to take you in my arms and show you how much I love you, but I bloody well can’t! Don’t you think it’s hard for me too?”

“Y-you love me?” She said, her face a picture of shock.

He ran his hands through his hair and paced away from her, placing his hands on the window sill, before storming back to stand right before her. “God, you are exasperating, Buffy, is there anything about my actions over the past few days that said otherwise? I’ve bloody loved the bones of you since I first saw you, you’re…you’re like some golden goddess who walked into my life and turned it upside down, made me want to get out of this hell hole once and for all,” He dropped his eyes to the floor before flicking them up sadly the anger in his voice replaced by a softer tone, “You make me want to be human, only for you. I love you, god help me I do, but I don’t think I could ever be enough for you. I can’t give you what other women have, I can’t make you a mother, I’d never be able to go out in daylight with you. You might always be lookin’ over your shoulder with me, because, hey, creature of the night here an’ there might always be some nasty out in the darkness who could take you from me. That’s just the half of it, what if we never find a way to break the curse I’m under? What if you have to leave and I have to stay here for the rest of my days? Fuck, I would never survive it. You’ve given me a taste of what could be and I won’t let you go without a fight, Buffy, I can’t.” He clutched her upper arms in his hands and she was staring up at him with love all but written in her eyes. She felt it too, he knew she did.

….

**Present Day – Joyce’s Room**

Joyce muttered in her sleep, nightmares haunted her of her mother and the way she’d upped and left her as a young girl.

There had been times during Joyce’s life where she regretted leaving her mom and her friend Kimmy. She’d written both but it was never the same as it might have been if she’d headed back home after Woodstock and become part of her life again.

Jake had turned out to be a waster and they’d lived a happy, hippy lifestyle for two years until he’d started hitting Joyce. Neither had called home once they left the festival and they had disappeared into a drug fueled haze, sometimes joining other hippy communes and squatters in old vacated houses. Jake had begun to drink as well as take hard drugs and Joyce, now seventeen, had formed friendships elsewhere while he disappeared for weeks. Gone were the days where they looked out for each other, cared for each other and made love under the stars.

The worst row between her and Jake had started after she became close with another male in the community. She was pregnant, she knew it, the signs were clear for anyone who cared to look. Jake, however, hadn’t been home or slept with her for six months, he’d found his pleasures elsewhere and she thought he’d left altogether with a group who’d gone to find themselves in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.

Joyce cupped her rounded belly as she’d peered into a broken mirror in her room. She’d become so lonely she’d sought solace with another member of the group, another seventeen year old called Aaron who had looked out for her. It wasn’t love but he was kind and made sure she ate.

Her eyes widened as Jake stormed through the door, throwing his bag onto the bed before grasping a naked Joyce by the hair and pulling her out through the front door of the sparse cabin she stayed in.

“Bitch! You, dirty little whore!” He said as he threw her into the dirt.

Joyce scrambled to cover herself as others began to come out of the cabins surrounding them.

“This child is not mine, look at her! Look at what she’s done while I’ve been away? She’s fucked anyone who’d have her, just like the little slut she is!” He backhanded Joyce as she tried to stand.

“No, please! Please don’t Jake, I’m sorry, Joyce said, protecting her stomach as she fell back to the floor.

“Joyce? Joyce! Get away from her you bastard!” Aaron ran towards her from several cabins down in his attempt to protect her.

“This is him? This is a boy, Joyce! A boy who you let fuck you, you sicken me!” Jake laughed as he watched the boy run towards them, his fists clenched.

Jake turned and kicked Joyce in the belly before Aaron reached her, laughing and swigging from a bottle of whiskey as he walked away and slammed the door to the cabin.

Joyce cried out in pain as Aaron reached her and she blacked out as he saw the blood leaking from between her legs.

“Somebody help her!” Aaron cried out in anguish as he dropped to his knees beside Joyce, “Please! Someone help us!”

…….

Grace knew this dream, she’d watched over Joyce as she had Buffy since she was born, Joyce talked in her sleep and cried out in pain for her lost boy. Her hands clenched over her undead heart as she felt her daughters pain and she wished she could’ve been right beside her to help her through the trauma in her life. She berated herself for not putting Joyce on one of those milk cartons which spanned he continental US. She’d spent a lifetime thinking of her girl, wondering what mistakes she’d made, worrying about why her own child hadn’t ever wanted to come home and why she’d never gone and hired that private dick to find her.

Joyce’s ramblings had woven into a woeful story as Grace stayed at her side during the many years since Buffy had been born. Her daughter’s mutterings had begun to make sense of why Joyce had cried in her sleep during the first few weeks of Buffy’s life, calling out for her baby, even though Buffy slumbered contentedly in a crib beside her bed.

The matriarch of the family knew her grandson had passed into the light, there was no hint of him surrounding either Joyce or Buffy, but it didn’t stop her from crying along with her daughter as tears slipped down her face as she slept, she understood loss, god help her she did, and her heart broke for her daughter.

Joyce had met Hank a few years later, Buffy’s father, this she knew from listening in on her daughter’s nighttime ramblings and from overhearing Buffy’s eventual conversations with her father, she had overheard calls where Joyce had been hurt again when she’d trusted Hank and he had left them for his secretary after years of marriage. Never had she wanted to use her powers of good for something bad until then.

Grace caressed her daughters face as she slept, ever in awe of the way her hand brushed right the way through her body. She took a chance she’d never tried before but someone had to go back to the priest and ask him to come back to the house. She wanted more support for Buffy too and Kyle and Piper had been good friends to her, she wanted to ask them to help too.

She waited until she knew Joyce was in a deep slumber before taking her opportunity, she lay her own body upon her daughters and felt a strange sinking feeling, before a battle against her own spirit momentarily but which ended as she took over her daughter’s body.

Tommy whispered fearfully, “Nana Grace, what shall I do? I’m afraid without you.”

Grace used Joyce’s body to sit up on the side of the bed and held out her hands to the boy.

Tommy looked uncertain as he watched Joyce look back at him kindly.

“I’ll be back before you know it, Thomas, just wait here in this room and I will be back in an hour or two. If anything happens to make you afraid, run back to the nursery and get Spike.”

“You aren’t my Nana Grace.” He pouted with narrowed eyes.

“I am, darling, I’m just borrowing Joyce’s body for a time, but it’s our secret, no-one must know, Tommy dearest.”

“Alright, Nana, but you’ll be home soon to tuck me in wont you?” His lip quivered.

“Always, my darling, always.”

…..

**Present Day – Out on the Moor**

John Moorland had watched the comings and goings in the house for some time as they worked on the gardens. He could never quite shake the feeling that someone was watching them, just like his grandfather had told him.

He hadn’t lied that day when he told Buffy he felt something was wrong about the house. The older man had worked on the grounds and gardens of the house for many years and John remembered his mutterings about the place, telling his young grandson he shouldn’t stray out of his sight and to never, under any circumstances, go inside alone.  

Most evenings since Joyce and Buffy had moved into the house, he’d taken to travelling down into the valley to give his Irish setter a good long run on the moor while checking on the house.

There was an electronic beep and he checked his watch, it was ten-thirty. He was about to head home when he saw Joyce exit the house and begin to walk off into the darkness. She wasn’t wearing a coat, was she bloody barmy? Temperatures dropped low at night in the valley, especially when the wind got up and it was no place for anyone to be wandering at night. Over the hills behind the house there were muddy bogs and craggy rocks which could cause all manner of injury to a person who didn’t know the lay of the land.

John jumped as a twig snapped behind him but let out a relieved chuckle when he realized it was nothing.

The dog started barking as something he couldn’t see. He assumed it was probably a rabbit or something, the daft dog was always chasing something. “Shep, pipe down! Come ‘ere lad, heel!”

Clipping the lead to Shep’s collar, he began to follow Joyce off into the star filled night.

As he got closer, he could see Joyce was only wearing her night gown and nothing on her feet. This was most strange.

“Mrs. Summers? Joyce?” He called out, his voice echoing but receiving no reply.

Shep let out a low and menacing growl. The dog had turned and seen something behind them. “What is it, lad?” John said as the dog yanked on his lead, causing John to lose his grip as the naughty pup sped off into the inky blackness.

“Shit!” John hissed as he tripped over a bolder.

“Shep, you little shite, get back here!” He yelled, whistling his usual call.

There were several sharp whines from a distance away.

“Shep? Where are you, boy?” He called. Listening intently John heard no further noise except for the rustling of the trees as the wind rose. “Shep?”

The moon came out from behind a rock formation and John took a step backwards in disbelief. His precious Shep lay upon the ground, his neck ripped open and what could only be described as a demon tearing at his flesh and drinking his blood.

“W-what in the bloody hell are you?” He yelled, falling backwards and scuttling backwards in a crab like motion. “Shep, Oh Lord! My boy, what have you done to my boy!” He cried out.

John Moorland was out of time, the last thing he felt was two hands grasp him by the head as his neck snapped.

Through the gloom, Darla watched the woman’s trek across the moor with interest. Now was not the time to kill her, she was far too valuable for that. No, this was the opportunity they’d been waiting for and the lady of the house had played right into their hands.

“Drusilla!” She snapped. “Must you continue to eat that flea ridden animal? It’s disgusting!”

Dru lifted her head and smirked, through lips dripping with crimson fluid, “Woof! Bad doggie!”


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick re-cap over the past few chapters. Spike has admitted his love for Buffy (Aww, so sweet) and he has found a secret room in the house which contains some research his friend Lizzie left for him when she died. Our matriarchal spirit, Grace, has taken over Joyce's body in a last ditched attempt to get help from Father Michael, Piper and Kyle. Darla and Dru are circling the house on the moors in search of a long lost Angelus and have just murdered a local man and his poor dog, Shep, and Tommy (a pure spirit in the house) has been left alone as Grace has gone off to find the priest. Just a reminder, you may remember, it is important for Buffy to remain a virgin for her to be able to use her full power (isn't it always in horror?)

Present Day - The Moor

Joyce's body movements were stiff, almost like a marionette and Grace realized all too late, she should have dressed her daughter in the correct attire before traipsing her with bare feet across the moor in a nightgown. It had been so long since she'd felt any kind of human contact. Her last hug with her daughter had been weeks before Joyce left for good and she never thought she'd ever feel her again. She knew this was a weird thing to do but the priests help was needed and neither Joyce nor Buffy showed any signs of asking for it. Someone had to seek it.

Grace knew that Kyle and Piper were needed too, she didn't want to put the youngsters in any danger, but the more help they had, the better. That Kyle seemed to have his head screwed on. Grace had seen how he'd kept the girls out of danger; it wasn't lost on her that Piper hadn't returned to the house after the night they'd spent there. She would ask the priest to rally up Kyle and Piper, to reassure them. Someone would be needed to protect Joyce and Buffy when this debacle came to a head, as it most certainly would and sooner rather than later. The others were quiet tonight but they would be pissed once they gathered strength and they would be coming for her first, then Buffy. Spike was in no position to leave the house if Buffy and Joyce had to run, so as much as she'd love Spike to protect her granddaughter, he wouldn't be able to save her alone.

She stopped on a craggy hill, as a scream shattered the silence. It could have been an animal, perhaps wolves still roamed the English countryside? Somehow, she doubted it, perhaps it was a fox or something? She shuddered as an owl hooted from a tree to her left and she turned, peering into the grey night as a low fog swirled around her ankles. Looking to her daughter's feet she saw blood slowly seeping from a wound on Joyce's ankle, she'd probably caught it on a bramble. "Damn it."� She muttered, ripping a length of the cotton from the bottom edge of Joyce's nightdress to bind it. Sitting on a smooth boulder she hitched Joyce's ankle to her knee and wrapped the material around it. Why had she been so unprepared, she asked herself. Probably because she hadn't needed to dress in decades and just hadn't thought about it in her desperation to get to the priest.

Happy with her handiwork she knew there would be no turning back now; she had much to do and little time before dawn to do it. She began to walk again, being as careful as possible as she moved up towards the summit of the hills leading into the valley. She sensed them, dancing on the edge of her peripheral. They had a similar signature to the vampire at the house so there was no doubt about what they were, all she knew was they thought they were being quiet, yet she could hear the mind of the somewhat crazy one with her gift as it chanted.

'Baby, baby, if he hears you, as he gallops past the house, Limb from limb at once he'll tear you, Just as pussy tears a mouse. And he'll beat you, beat you, beat you, and he'll beat you into pap, and he'll eat you, eat you, eat you, Every morsel snap, snap, snap'

Grace stopped and turned. "You know, for creatures of the night you are both so darned loud!"� She found herself face to face with a blonde vampire in full game face. "And you sure are ugly, lady! Tell me, what is it you plan to get out of our encounter? Because I can assure you I'm not going to be your next snack dear."� She snarled back.  
...

Darla took a step back, unaccustomed to being back-chatted by mere humans. Occasionally they'd crossed paths with a Slayer during the last few centuries, and a Slayer had every right to feel superior, however much Darla disliked them. Slayers were almost as powerful Master Vampire, well enough for said Master Vamp to avoid them like the plague. They didn't hang around too long to find out what a Slayer was capable of, there was a reason why they'd all lasted so long, common sense. "Drusilla, look here, this one thinks she can talk her way out of being my next meal." The blonde vamp giggled.  
"Oh, I don't think young lady, I know. Take a bite out of me and you'll regret it. I can tell you now, I don't taste so good."�  
The elder vamp was amused by the woman calling her a young lady, she was well over two-hundred years old, but she'd kept in shape as every good vampire should, no saggy bellies or cellulite for her, no sir, it made it harder when hunting as the men didn't fall so easily at her feet.  
Dru swayed and murmured to herself about pussy's and mice and Darla snapped, "Drusilla! For Pete's sake will you be quiet for once!"�  
...

As the vamp turned toward her cohort, Grace felt her power coil in her belly, seeking a way out to deal with these pests. It rattled through Joyce's body, finally finding her throat and powering forth like projectile vomit filled with power and light. The two vampires were thrown back off their feet, both jumping up and dropping to their haunches, ready to spring. A thick mist swirled across the hills and enveloped the trio.  
Grace took the opportunity to run, feeling awkward in the body which didn't belong to her and hoping the mist would keep the vampires ensconced within until she cleared the valley. She didn't have time for a battle with them, but their proximity concerned her more. A deadly presence within the house was one thing but vampires outside was quite another. She just hoped Buffy wasn't distracted enough to invite them in as she rushed on to the sanctuary of Father Michael.  
.........

Later that same night - The Parish Church

Father Michael rushed to lock the church up, he'd had a late Alcoholics Anonymous group and it was nearing midnight as he walked towards the church gates. Moses, his tabby cat wound around his legs, meowing in protest at not being fed yet. The priest bent to tickle the cat's ears before shuddering from the low mist which enveloped the tombstones. "There's sommit' in't air tonight, puss, per'aps a storms comin'?"�  
He looked down and chuckled as the cat meowed in agreement, watching his owner as he reached for the padlock with his large bunch of keys. At that moment, a woman slammed into the gates, her hair wild and eyes terrified like she was some wailing banshee. "Blimey, woman, you nearly scared me half to death!"�

"Father, we need your help!"� The woman said breathlessly as she clutched the wrought iron bars of the gate with white fingers.

"Mrs. Summers? Is that you? What are you doin' out in this weather in just your nightgown, you daft apeth?"� He opened the gate and ushered her inside, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders. "Look at your poor feet, you haven't any shoes on? Tell me what's going on." He said as Moses jumped up onto his shoulder to ride the way back to the church.

Once they made the way into the inner enclave he motioned to the poor, shivering woman to sit. "I'll make you a cuppa, take a seat." He said to Joyce as he ushered her into the vestry to the comfy chair.  
...

Grace heard the squeal of an old-fashioned kettle as it came to boil on a small stove in the corner and the tinkling as china cups where stirred. She'd made such a kettle boil when the priest had first arrived at the house, it was an obvious sign her daughter hadn't noticed, Joyce had just been afraid and hadn't even been able to make the tea herself. Grace had never wanted her baby to be afraid of her and it had wounded her dearly.

She found it hard to control Joyce's hands as she was handed a white cup and saucer and they both rattled, almost spilling onto the floor. Taking a sip, Grace closed her eyes, the hot drink was like nectar of the gods after without taste or sensation of any kind. She wondered if he had any cookies. Mentally slapping herself and refocusing, she looked up to the priest who was starting at her with concern.

"Mrs. Summers, I'm beginning to worry about you, do you feel alright? It's just a little strange with you turning up here at all hours in nothing but a ripped nightdress?"� The priest questioned.

"Father,"� Grace said, as she placed the cup on an ornate table before them, "Please take a deep breath and sit down, I have something to tell you and I need you to keep an open mind."�

Father Michael nodded, looking perplexed. "Believe me, Mrs. Summers, I've heard some tales in my time here as priest, mostly just from people's imagination, but some,"� he paused. "Some which would turn your hair grey."�

Grace just about stopped herself from giggling at that statement, grey, white, what was the difference? "I'm not Mrs. Summers."� She began, "What I'm trying to say is, I'm not Mrs. Summers, although this is her body I inhabit for the moment."�

The father crossed himself before taking his rosary beads and kissing the cross. Grace assumed he was just being cautious, he hadn't yet heard the full details and every Catholic she'd ever known had thought a possessed body would be inhabited by a demon.

"Go on." The� Father urged her, his brow furrowed.

"It's a very long story and we don't have time for all of the finer details. I am Joyce's mother, Grace. I died when Buffy was born and I have been with my family since the moment I became part of this spiritual plane. I'm here because there was something unresolved in my life, I know that and I've come to terms with that. Father, let's dispense with the pleasantries: I'm a ghost, you're a priest and my family are endangered by what is happening in their house. Father, I beg you to come back with me and perform the cleansing ritual tonight, while there's still time." Grace reached forward and grasped the Father's hand with her own, well, not quite her own, but this wasn't a time to look too closely at the current situation.

Father Michael visibly jumped as a clap of thunder roared above them and rain began to pelt against the stained-glass window behind him. He stood and shakily made his way to an intricately carved dark wood cupboard containing the communion wine, uncorking the bottle and taking a huge swig. He paused before taking another long draft and Grace wondered whether she'd broken the priest. Perhaps when faced with the supernatural, he'd lose his mind and then where might they be?

He turned slightly, "So, you're sayin', you're sayin'..." �

"Father, there isn't time for this and you need to know, if there was any other way I would never have taken my own daughter's body over the moor at night. I have to save them, I-I love my girls and I can't see anything hurt them, it would destroy what is left of me."� Grace felt tears roll down her cheeks and plop onto the cotton nightgown. It was the strangest of feelings to experience real tears again and she worried the floodgates might open if the priest didn't agree to help.

He turned and looked deeply into Grace's eyes before taking a large breath. "I've seen some strange things in my time," he let out an almost hysterical chuckle. "But if you were evil, you'd never have made it onto consecrated ground, Grace. My concern is what will happen when Joyce realises I'm in her home and she doesn't know why."� He said with a grimace. "Even priests can be arrested for breaking and entering, you know?"�

Grace blinked. Of course, the priest could only take what she had to say at face value, but this sounded like yes to her; it sounded like he'd made his mind up he would help. Why else might he consider getting caught in the house?

"Now, Grace, I suggest I find your daughter some shoes and something better to wear before we drive back to the house, don't you think?"�  
..............

Present Day - Back at the house

Buffy called out in her sleep and woke him into a twilight slumber, Spike was neither awake nor asleep but the feeling of her hand slipping into his pants was very real. He turned over and muttered, "Pet, please don't tease."�

He lay on his side with a raging hard-on, hoping she would forget what she was doing in her sleep. Fuck! Wouldn't it have been better to just go to the secret room and get on with some research? The trouble was, he didn't want to, no, he wouldn't leave her alone. He just wanted her and nothing was going to stop him being by her side.

Buffy sighed in her sleep and turned to spoon him, coiling around him with her gorgeously intense heat, her hand sneaking back into his pants, even as he tried to shuck her off gently. "Buffy, this isn't a good idea."� he muttered, even as he found himself thrusting into her hot hand.

She let out a light snore and he couldn't help but feel disappointed. Then her hands seemed to come awake of their own volition, she reached up and tweaked his flat nipple. Oh, god, he thought, god, please don't, he murmured wanting it even more. His slumbering demon scratched at his skull, 'No mate,' he told it, 'this is not prey' "Ghahh, oh, god, Buffy." Even he was surprised as the words erupted from his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut as she took hold of his shaft, her soft palm clutching him and it rose and fell.

Spike hadn't been touched in so long he thought one more twist of her hand might wank him into oblivion. That was until she eased herself up the bed and bit his ear lobe gently.

"I want you,"� She whispered, her sweet breath sighing across his ear, "Let me have you, please, I want you so much."�

He clenched his fists, she couldn't have him and he couldn't have her, not yet, not until..." "Hooo, h-holy f-fuck, don't stop, princess,"� he breathed. The reason for them not being able to have each other was but a distant dream as his mind was overtaken by pleasure. All he knew was he wanted her badly. She'd opened bloody Pandora's box by flicking his fly open with her perfect hand and taking his hard member between her dexterous fingers.

He felt her shift on the bed and ease herself onto his lap, her hand never stopping as he gasped and shuddered below her.

Moonlight shimmered through the window and lit her hair like silver, her dilated pupils illuminated as she bit her lip eagerly, pumping him with both hands.

"We can't."� He almost sobbed as her hands moved faster, swirling as her thumbs caressed the bundle of nerves beneath the tip of his cock.

"We can and we are." She replied throatily as she moved herself forward, rubbing herself in pleasure on the seam of his jeans, letting out the most perfect gasps and moans as she threw her head back, her golden locks swaying in the iridescent light. She'd removed her bed shorts and he almost lost his mind as he took in the scent of her arousal, her wetness brushing back and forth over his balls, through his jeans, as her bare clit sought friction.

He reached up and tangled his hand in her hair, pulling her forward into a sizzling kiss, his tongue plundering her mouth while he revelled in her cries of satisfaction. His hands reached inside her top to brush nipples which cried out for attention, so firm they felt like rock.

"Fuck, you're like fire to the touch, baby, Christ, if I can't have you I'll dust."� He moaned, all reason lost as she moved herself closer to his cock, he could feel every part of her slick wetness sliding closer, her sweet clit gliding along his length as she began to shudder.

"Oh, Spike, I'm gonna, ooh my god, Sp-oh!"�

As she threw her head back in ecstasy, he felt a distant but familiar feeling shoot from his core. His last thought before his mind was overwhelmed by pleasure was that he'd never felt more at one with another than now, with her body pressed against his while he spurted his spending's over her stomach.  
...

Tommy heard a scratching from below the room Nana Grace had asked him to stay in. She'd told him that it was Spike's room, but then a rat had scooted out from behind the bookcase and scared him half to death. He'd forgotten he wasn't alive and rats were only supposed to scare the living.

He started to run, his eyes shut tightly to ignore anything else that might scare him as he headed toward the comfort of his hidey hole. He'd spent hundreds of years there before Nana Grace had come and he'd finally been safe. He wanted to feel safe again and Nana had left; who knew when she would return?

His eyes met the door to the nursery eventually and he lifted his tiny fist to knock. Nana had told him to leave Spike and Buffy be, but he was terrified and wanted familiarity, he really wanted Spike, Spike made him feel safe.  
...

Buffy's eyes were still blown wide, staring down at him as he hardened again. This time he would have her, sod the bloody curse or whether she might not beat the Others, they'd find a way. Surely after one hundred years he deserved to have the girl? She wanted it and he was more than willing, what else mattered?

He reached for her, his fingers plucking her nipple as she groaned.

There was a knock at the door and they froze.

"Shit!"� He hissed.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've still had technical issues on this chapter so please let me apologise for the weird diamond shaped question marks on this and the last chapter, I dont know whats wrong.

**Present Day**

Buffy huffed as she eased herself from Spike's lap to answer the door, throwing on a robe she found draped over a chair. She bit her lip as she mulled over what had almost happened between them. What was she doing? She'd practically forced herself on the admittedly more than willing vampire, and it would have meant completely disregarding what her grandmother had told them. Spike had tried to tell her they shouldn't, but she'd insisted, which was totally not her. She wasn't rebellious, at least not when it came to family. She couldn't work out what it was all about. It was this house; there were weird things at play here. It felt oppressive, and she wondered if Spike felt the same way.

Opening the door tentatively, her thoughts fled as she was immediately focused on what was in front of her. She saw no one, but didn't believe for a second that the hallway was empty.

"Hello?"� she shivered. Were the others back and up to their old tricks? She looked out into the corridor and wind swirled through a white curtain, blowing it open. She let out an 'Eeep' and stepped back in to find herself in Spike's arms as he peered over her shoulder.

"'S nothin'"� He said, pulling her back inside.

She stiffened as a small hand clutched hers, it was cold and her first urge was to shrug it away. She squeezed her eyes shut, and steeled herself. When she opened them to look upon her hand, she found Tommy tearfully smiling up at her.

Life was strange and full of surprises. The compassion she felt for the little boy right then came as a shock. He may be dead but he was only a baby, and still needed reassurance. She found herself dropping to her knees and asking, "What's wrong, little one?"�

"I-I, there was a noise, I think it was only rats, but I was afraid without Nana Grace." He pouted. Buffy had the urge to take the small being into her arms and to soothe him, but her mind reminded her that he wasn't made of matter that could be hugged and even if she could hug him, she wasn't quite ready for that just yet. The shock of having a ghostly Grandma was all she could deal with that day.

"Come on inside, Tommy," she said kindly. "You get comfortable here, and I'll just check on mom. Spike, would you stay with him, he's had a bit of a shock?" She smiled tenderly as her man nodded and went on her way to check on her mother.

...

Darla moved through the shadows, keeping to the low-lying mist as she crept along the walls of the house. That old bitch had escaped, but not for long. She would have to return sometime and she and Dru would be waiting to rip out her lungs and have them for breakfast.

She needed to be stealthy, so she'd left Dru to her thoughts, or whatever passed for Dru's jumbled thoughts - on the hillside while she scoped out the house. She was confident that she would be able to saunter on inside if she pleased. It was her Master's house; she had a standing invitation.

...

"Hello?" Kyle's voice was thick with sleep when he answered; it was four am and he hadn't been expecting a call from the parish priest at this,  or any hour, really.

"Ah, Kyle, I'm sorry to wake you so late, but I need your help, son."�

There was a rustling at the end of the line, and he heard a female voice muttering in the background, no doubt complaining at the disturbance.

"Right you are, Father, I, err, Piper, she's 'ere, too, what do ya need?"�

Nothing phased the father these days. The churches view of young people saving themselves for marriage was not so often adhered to in real life, much as he preached purity in his Sunday sermons. He chose to ignore the fact Kyle was clearly sleeping with the girl, the boy could save that for the confessional.

Grace squirmed in the seat next to him, freshly clothed in some jeans, a warm hooded top and some trainers he'd found in the church donated jumble box, a little large for her but better that than be seen prancing around town in nothing more than a thin, cotton night dress.

"We need to get back now, father, the longer we leave it the more danger is afoot. I forgot to mention the vampires! In all the fuss and self-justification they slipped my mind!" Grace admitted somewhat sheepishly.

Father Michael gulped as he ended his conversation with Kyle. He'd told the two to get dressed, find any religious artefacts they had lying around the house and he would meet them outside in the car. His mind was spinning. How did one forget to mention vampires? He questioned himself and his belief in the strange story the woman had told him. Could she still be spinning him a yarn? Could she be mentally ill? If Kyle's story hadn't backed hers up then he may well have thought she was a sandwich short of a picnic. Regardless, the situation needed taking in hand. He had his bag ready with holy water, salt, sacred oil, and the St. Benedict's medals he'd blessed for each room the ritual called for. He had taken some time to pray before, prostate before the church altar. Finally, he had his well-worn bible and the wording for the ritual.

"Grace, you're puttin' an awful lot on a man here, how am I to fight the forces of darkness unprepared? Where did you see these creatures of the night?"�

"Out on the moor. I sort of expelled them, but there's no doubt they'll be back; the blonde one was pretty mad when I blew her away like a leaf on the breeze. They had no other reason to be there other than to get into that house, I'm certain of it."�

"Can they cross the threshold? I don't know much of these things but I alus' thought they couldn't get in without an invite?"�

Grace shook her head, "I don't know whether that's the truth but we have to hope so. I suppose with the other vampire in residence..."�

"Wait! You're telling me there's a vampire in the house as well as these spirits, these 'Other's'? Blimey woman, you're killin' me here. I don't know me arse from me elbow!"� He was becoming more and more unsure about this by the minute, he wondered if they should re-group at the church tomorrow and go to the house properly prepared.

It was too late for that as the two teens hopped into the back of the car, looking half asleep, but with arms piled full of statues of the holy virgin and almost all the crosses from the walls of Kyle's mother's house, of which there were many. Father Michael knew Kyle's mother wouldn't be best pleased and raised an eyebrow.

"What?"� Kyle said, looking down at the haul, "I left a note tellin' her I was 'avin' 'em cleaned, any road, she'll know nowt if we get 'em back by mornin', it'll be reet."�

The Father hoped it would be; the last thing he wanted was a dressing down from Kyle's mother at mass on Sunday, that would be wore than battling any evil.

...

Piper gasped as she saw Mrs. Summers in the front of the car. "Oh, Mrs. Summers, I'm sorry about not comin' back to work, I-I-I."� She stuttered.

Father Michael caught Pip's startled expression in the rear-view mirror. "Don't want to flummox you, petal, but this isn't Joyce Summers, not right now."�

Pip's fingers gripped the car door handle and she turned as white a sheet. Kyle put down the religious artefacts and placed an arm around his girlfriend. "Hush, sweet, don't be frit, we're with the Father now, he won't see anything 'appen to us."�

Grace turned and held out her hand to Piper and Kyle, "I'm Grace, Buffy's grandmother, " She neglected to mention she was Buffy's dead Grandmother, not wanting to scare the poor girl more, "I'm sorry we have to meet under such strange circumstances but please believe me when I tell you this: I'm only here to help."� Piper hesitated before holding her hand out and shaking Grace's gingerly.

Father Michael sighed as he drove through the empty streets of the town, beginning a long explanation of their current situation and why Grace was there.

...

As they headed down the slope towards the valley, Grace urged the father to turn off the headlights, not wanting to announce their presence. The father pulled over onto the roadside, the tyres crackling on the gravel before he jumped out and opened the boot. He busied himself, loading his kit and the items Kyle had amassed into an old green rucksack before hoisting it onto his back.

"I-I can't, Kyle, Father, I d-don't want to walk down there in the dark, I don't mean to be crude, but I might just shite my pants."� Pip pleaded, not making a move to exit the car.

"Babe, you'll be alright with us, 'm not leaving you here alone, come on, I'll be right here for you, never gonna let anything happen to you,"� Kyle said, taking her into his arms and rubbing his palm in wide circles over her back. "Never gonna let any old boggarts or vampires get my girl." he held his hand out to the terrified girl.

"Piper, come on now, love, the longer we stay out here the more likely we're sittin' ducks for these vampires. Let's get movin'"� The Father urged, watching as Pip began to move, shuddering and tearful, but walking none the less.

They reached the summit of the hill and the Father tripped, landing on his hands in the long grass. He stood and brushed himself down, cautiously looking for what had caused him to fall. He took out the torch he'd been reluctant to use, not wanting to make them too obvious as they walked to the house and shone it down onto the ground, almost falling back as he saw the face of one of his parishioners, clearly long deceased, face pallid and blood splattered, with his throat ripped out. Piper and Kyle moved up behind him, spotting immediately what the father was looking at.

Piper let out a strangled cry and hid her face in Kyle's chest.

Father Michael felt Grace grind to a halt beside him. "Grace, perhaps you could take Piper into the house while Kyle and I and cover the poor fellow's body so he's less likely to be snacked on by the local wildlife. I'll call the police from the house."�

No one noticed Dru laying on her back a few yards away as she made angels in the long grass, happily sated with her meal and petting the fur of poor, dead Shep.

...

**Inside the House**

"Spike! Oh my god, my mom! S-she's gone!" Buffy came running back to the nursery in panic mode.

"Now, hang on, pet, she's probably down in the kitchen fixin' herself some cocoa. We'll go an' look for her now."�

"What if the others have her? What if they've taken her and hurt her?" Buffy yelled, her face ashen as she clutched at his arms.

"Look, pet, take a deep breath, we'll go look for her first, her room's only down the hall, I'm sure I would've heard if she was in trouble."�

Buffy allowed him to take her hand and they headed to the staircase just as the chandelier flickered to life, its hundreds of crystal pieces tinkling as a light breeze from the front door blew it gently.

...

"Mom?"� Buffy said taking a step as she saw her mother come into the house with a terrified looking Piper, followed by Father Michael and Kyle. "What's happening? Why are you all here?"�

They all looked up at Buffy and Spike who was caught like a deer in the headlights by Buffy's mother. Fuck, how was he going to explain himself? He was dressed in jeans and no top, no boots, dishevelled hair. He was done for. Next there would be the torches and pitchforks.

Buffy's inquiry was interrupted by the drawl of a foreign accent, American to be precise, from behind the crowd at the door. "I do wonder why you'd worry so much, dearest. You see, you're all about to die."�

Spike gripped the bannister until he found his fingers crunching into the ancient wood as it splintered beneath his grip. He shifted into game face, not caring who was there. "Darla!"� He spat through his fangs and jumped over the bannister to the ground floor, landing in a crouch and snarling towards the interloper as the humans fled to safety, backing against the walls.

"Dear William,"� Darla smiled before her own game face made its way to the fore. "So good to see you again,"� she said before she leapt at the younger vampire, the two-meeting mid-air with a crash and a roar like two titans.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter we left a terrified group on the verge of what promises to be an almighty battle between the head of the Aurelian clan and the resident vampire.

"Nooooo!"� Buffy wailed in terror as Spike was thrown ten feet back against the wall. She surged toward the fighting vampires, but found her mother grasping he arm and pulling her back from running down below.

"Buffy, now isn't the time, you need to stay safe, go to your room and don't come out until I come get you!"�

"Mom, I can't, you don't understand!"�

"Buffy, I do understand,"� Buffy found herself levelled with Joyce, as she stared into her eyes in fear, "I'm not your mother, I'm Grace."�

Buffy's eyes darted back and forth as she tried to take in what she was being told. "Y-you, my mom, n-no! No! She isn't for you to use like some suit of clothes to take and put on and discard when you feel like it, she's my mommy! Mine!"� She shook herself away and made for the stairs again.

"Buffy, please! It isn't what you think!"� Grace called after her.

Spike crashed over the bannister and onto the staircase in a contorted fashion, the plaster on the walls shattering and it rained down on him, his leg looked to be broken but still he was up on his feet hobbling to the edge and making ready to jump again.

"Spike, don't, please don't!"� Buffy begged as she tried to grasp him.

"For fuck's sake, Grace,"� he roared, "Ain't it your bloody job to keep 'er safe? Make her go!" He didn't spare either woman another glance before he dove back to the ground floor, landing as planned on top of the vampiress who had stopped to inspect her nails like she had no care in the world.

She threw him off easily and he slid across the polished wooden floors until he collided with a Â wooden dais. His head hit the stand hard enough that the wood split with a crack and the priceless Japanese vase perched precariously on top came crashing down onto his face, causing blood to pour freely into one eye.

"You, boy, are more of a fool than I thought!" Darla growled, now angrier than she had been. Up until now the fight had seemed like Darla swatting away an inconvenient fly, but he'd gained leverage momentarily when he'd jumped from above and taken her by surprise. "You dare to try to take me down in my own Sire's house! Did you not question how I walked through the door? This is the Master's house and you, you are not fit to be his minion, let alone part of the Aurelian line!"� She walked forward and planted a stiletto boot heel on his bare chest. Spike winced as she applied pressure to the seam of his abs, causing a rivulet of blood to run down his belly.

"As head of the line, I have the right to execute a traitor to their kind, anyone who makes a move against me. You protect these humans in the house of my sire!"� She spat, "You! Who are nothing by a gutter snipe who's fed on the dirty blood of vermin all these years!"� She ground her heel in further causing him to hiss in pain. "I can smell it on your repugnant skin! You drink from filthy pigs and flea ridden rats. You deny your true nature! Angelus would have drained this house, drained it of every drop of human blood!"�

She stopped as Spike muttered something so softly even her acute hearing struggled to pick it up. His hands lay slack beside his body, his face awash with blood from his lacerations that was steadily pooling on the floor. She leaned her head closer to listen to what he spoke lowly.

...

God his leg hurt. It was broken at least below the knee and at his ankle, but it would heal. Saving his girl and getting rid of Darla was more important than any pain he might suffer. If things carried on the way they were right now, she would dust him and drain every last soul in this house. The humans in the nursery would not be protected from a vampire; it was safely guarded from the others, but the spell wouldn't stop a common or garden vampire. Lizzie was never prepared for the true undead. No, he had to use his wits. Undernourished and weaker than a vampire full of human blood, he had only his cunning and intelligence. Darla had been a syphilitic whore when she was turned. Whatever she'd learned in two or three centuries sure hadn't been from a book or by using her brain. She'd primped and preened, using only her looks to get her where she was today, he knew that from spending only decade with her. But he hadn't spent almost one hundred years alone, becoming self-reliant, without learning how to play the part required of him. He was a lot savvier than the elder vamp would give him credit for.

He began to laugh maniacally, but keeping his body as still as he could. He needed her to believe he was weak, now more than ever and did his best to not let his eye stray to where he could see Father Michael silently removing holy water and a cross from his rucksack.

"Angelus." Came out on a pained breath eventually, wincing as she pressed harder with her boot. "You'll never know what happened to that b-bastard if you dust me, you bitch."�

Darla chuckled, never once questioning her senses, she made the mistake of thinking the smell of fear within the room was enough to keep her potential prey in a perpetual state of terror.

She made the mistake of chuckling and closing her eyes.

Spike grasped the boot from his chest and twisted her ankle until bone separated from bone and she fell back onto her arse, fighting like a wildcat as Spike rolled his weight onto her. "Fuckin' do it father, do it right now or she'll escape!"� Spike yelled, his eyes on the sliver of wood he'd had his eye on all along from the broken plinth.

Father Michael ran forward and doused Darla with a full bottle of holy water, pressing the cross to her head as she writhed and burned.

...

The priest was at a loss, he knew such evil existed but had never thought as a local parish priest he would ever see it with his own eyes, not like this. He'd been to war as a younger man, seen men do things to each other he could never imagine but nothing could've prepared him for this.

He watched the resident vampire fight for supremacy over the female intruder. This was the creature Grace had described as a champion in the strangest of supernatural scenarios, and right now he was losing the fight. Â With each blow he lost more blood, and as soon as he'd begun to tire, the younger vampire was tossed around the foyer like a hot potato. As Father Michael looked on, he had the odd thought that this vampire was fighting with everything he had; heart, mind, and if he didn't know better, soul. If the woman, Darla, the vampire had called her, succeeded, then they might all die at her hands. He questioned himself; should he trust his intuition and believe the words of a ghost who told him the resident vampire was the protector? Or should he rely solely on his training?

Kyle's eyes were on him from across the room, Piper clutched to his chest, urging him to do something. The boy's hands were clenched, eager to move forward and join the fight. Michael knew, in no uncertain terms, that the vibrant young lad he'd known since a child, this young man with his life ahead of him, would be dead as soon as he made any attempt to intervene. He shook his head slightly, giving Kyle as look which forbid him from making any move.

He moved to grasp a bottle of holy water and a large wooden cross from his bag, taking slow and measured steps forward, his eyes on the golden eyed male vampire being held down by the sharp heel of the comely female.

In his mind, he repeated the Lord's prayer, his mind stuttering over 'deliver us from evil' as he realized he'd never prayed that line quite so literally before. He would have only once chance to do this and it was entirely dependent on the hope that the only one strong enough to protect any of them from the vampiress was everything Grace had promised. Otherwise, with this next move he'd as good as signed their death warrants.

He paused, waiting for some sign from the vampire pinned to the floor. There. The tiniest flicker of his forefinger pointed right towards him.

Father Michael charged, his booted feet clattering to them before the hell-spawned bitch could turn, her ankle shattered. He was surprised she never saw him coming.

"O My Sweet Lord,"� He shouted out above the tortured cries of the vampire as her skin smoked and charred the whole bottle of holy water emptied over her face. He held steady, pressing the cross to her head until it left a red and blistered indentation upon her forehead, "Forgive us our sins and save us from the fires of Hell. Lead all souls to Heaven, and help especially those who are most in need of Thy Mercy!"� He cried out.

He fell to his knees as the vampiress disappeared, replaced by a pile of dust.

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We left the last chapter with Darla dusted, but by who's hand?

Buffy wished it hadn't come to this. She had never been part of traditional church upbringing and couldn't totally place her faith in whatever god was out there to save her family, friends and especially her vampire from this psycho bitch from hell.

No, it wasn't the time to be afraid; she was tired of being afraid, tired of being the only one in the house who was powerless against the tirade of evil that threatened them.

Fear was rapidly being replaced by anger as she took in the scene below from her spot at the top of the stairs. Her nails bit into the palms of her hands. How dare this bitch walk into _her_ house and touch _her_ man, dare to make those threats against him, to tell him he was beneath her. Spike was beneath no one!

" _Do it! Just bloody do it! Don't you think I've spent years dreaming of this day? Dreaming of the moment this would all end? If you stake me in the heart this will be over! I've been so soddin' pathetic I couldn't do it myself so why don't you just get it over with? Dust me, Buffy, just bloody end it, right here, right now!"�_

She tasted blood as she bit down on pursed lips. Buffy watched as the priest headed with trepidation towards the vampires, she couldn't allow this poor man to do this alone. Her eyes homed in on a shard of wood laying a foot away from Spike. The two vampires and three humans below her were so engrossed in what was happening, none of them paid any mind to the blonde at the top of the stairs. She felt Grace, hovering behind her. Since her outburst, Buffy hadn't spoken a word to Grace, she was so pissed with her. Still, she'd given her kudos for staying by her side, knowing her granddaughter was so furious with her.

It was just as well, no-one else was watching her as she knew she had to wait for the moment to be right. She wasn't sure how or why, but she trusted her intuition. As she waited, rage blew through her like an angry wind, turning her love for Spike into a furious emerald tinted tornado. She reached inward for that energy and, now, it was time.

She hurdled over the bannister just as Father Michael moved, aiming for the wood and landing on all fours. Pain jolted through her hands and shoulders as the hard floor shook her to the bones, but it didn't stop her as she scrambled for the pointy piece of wood and swiftly plunged it into the heart of the devil leech who'd tried to take everything from her.

She stood above the two men and dusted off her hands. "You can attack me, hell spawn, but nobody messes with my boyfriend!" Buffy yelled at the pile of dust, the two started men staring up at her in shock.

"I must tell you the truth, blondie,"� Father Michael said to Spike as he fell back, sweat pouring from his brow, "You'd better be what they say you are or I'll be sharpenin' this cross right now! I'm not sure I can go through that again!"�

...

Angelus woke, his blackened eyes opening as he felt the link with his Sire break, he let out an earth shattering roar which shook the house. Trapped he may be, momentarily, along with the others in their enforced stasis, but they would pay for this and pay dearly.

He would have the others rip them limb from limb and revel in their screams as he found new and inventive ways to torture the living and hunt down the dead.

Unbidden, a tar filled tear ran down his monstrous visage as he closed his eyes once more.

...

Buffy and Father Michael looked to the ceiling as it began to shake, the demonic roar rocking the house like an earthquake. Kyle clutched Piper to him as they made their way to the injured vampire, helping to pull him to safety under the staircase, protecting him from the pieces of broken plaster falling from the ceiling.

Buffy shielded Spike's body and showered him with kisses, begging him to tell her he was alright.

The noise and quaking stopped and all was eerily silent for a moment. Then, the sound of protesting creaking cut the silence as the front door swung open.

Everyone who could move, quickly scrambled behind Father Michael; even the non-believers felt safer with the priest in front of them, his holy water and crosses like shields of armour against the forces of darkness. Only Spike remained on the floor, unable to lift himself, though Buffy hovered in front of him, her stance protective. Each of them peeked from under the stairs, panic stricken at the thought that the others were back and about to make a striking blow.

The wily brunette in the doorway stared back at them. Her eyes widened and tears flooded over her cheeks, flowing freely from flashing golden eyes. Beside her, a bloodied, growling German Shepherd with glowing green eyes began to snarl and snap its jaws at them. It wasn't lost on them how large and terrifying the mutt's fangs were.

There was silence as they all held their breath, waiting for an attack. Kyle took his mother's meat cleaver from the back of his waistband. He'd stowed it there in case it was needed and if there was ever a time it was needed it was right now.

"No, lad! Don't!"� The Father cried out as Kyle ran past him toward Drusilla Arms flailing wildly with the chopper in his hand, Dru batted the boy away with one hand, and fell to his back below her. In demon visage, she peered at Kyle momentarily before looking to William, who still lay injured on the floor.

"Dru, it doesn't have to be this way, we can talk, sort somethin' out. You can leave peacefully." Spike said.

Drusilla took in the picture, her William was with another, with the sunshine she had predicated in dreams and in the cards, only she hadn't thought the sunshine would be a real girl, someone he was clearly in love with. It radiated from him and her undead heart shattered when she realised she had been too late; William loved another.

Kyle got to his feet and Grace held steady, waiting for an opening to use her power to kill or scare off the brunette. She'd had the same problem while Darla was attacking Spike, too many people in the way who could be hurt.

"You allowed sunshine to kill Grandmama! You are dead to me, William, I tell you, dead!"�

Then she clutched her head and let out a wailing scream joined in turn by a howl from the hound from hell, a macabre and sorrowful serenade before she turned and fled into the night.

The dog - which had once been Shep - sniffed the air and let out a whine before turning and trotting after his mistress. It was almost as if, he too, blamed them for his present circumstances.

Spike lifted his head as Dru left and let out a sardonic chuckle, "That went well then?"�

Father Michael shook his head, "That dog was always nothing if not loyal."� He sighed forcing himself to look away from the door, "Is everybody alright?"� Buffy, Kyle and Piper nodded. "Only Spike to tend to then? Let's get him to the kitchen, I have some medical experience from my time in the Falkland's, I should be able to patch him up well enough."�

Grace spoke up, "Kyle, Piper, would you help me barricade the doors and nail the window's shut. The vampire's gone for now, but she somehow can just walk right into this house right along with that overly toothy pooch. Oh, my, did you see its eyes?" She shuddered.

...

The wounded vamp groaned as Buffy and Father Michael lifted him to his feet and walked him to the kitchen, Spike hopping on the unbroken leg.

"Up on't table lad, let the dog see the rabbit."�

Spike let out a pained chuckle at the Father's words, "Mate, that wasn't in the best taste, seein' how we've narrowly avoided bein' eaten by Satan's Fido just now."�

The vampire smirked again as a fleeting thought wheedled its way through his suffering, was that dog somehow his brother?

The Father smiled, "Let's get a proper look at that leg. Buffy, do you have some scissors?"�

Passing the pair to the priest, she focused on cleaning the nasty gash on Spike's eyebrow with a clean washcloth and a bowl of warm water. The Father cut down the length of Spike's jeans. She tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore the fact that this left more than a few inches of Spike available for her perusal. It felt wrong to lust over his bare skin given the state of things _and_ in the presence of a priest no less! But she couldn't help it as her eyes slid over his body as it was revealed. As she already knew, he wore no boxers, and she caught a glimpse of the dark curls at the apex of his thighs reminding her of where her hands had been only hours before all of this.

It seemed like days ago when they were together, where she had almost allowed him to take her virginity in a rush of passion. Her heart fluttered at the thought she had almost lost him and she thought nothing of what she'd had to do to Darla to finish her, only of the fact she'd saved the man she loved from the jaws of death with that final strike.

She kept her touch gentle as she smoothed the dried blood from his eyelashes and fished the tiny pieces of plaster and broken pottery from his hair, which was no longer the bleached blonde they'd been going for, but almost tinged a soft pink from the amount of blood that had seeped through his locks during the course of the evening.

Spike grasped her free hand and pulled it to his mouth, kissing her fingertips, "Thought I was a goner there, pet, thought I was well an' truly screwed. You were magnificent, sweetheart."� He turned his head to the priest and swallowed almost shyly, "You both were bloody magnificent, thank you."�

The Father paused and looked at the vampire thoughtfully. "Buffy clearly loves you. Her grandma tells me you are a good man; from what I saw of this tonight I'd say although you may not be human, God was glad to have you fighting on our side. Here, bite down on this."�

Father Michael placed a wooden spoon in Spike's mouth before manipulating his lower leg back into place.

The spoon clattered to the floor, "Jesus fuckin' Christ on a bike!" Spike roared.

The priest shook off the blasphemy, he could hardly chastise a soulless, supernatural creature. "Feeling a bit better?"�

"Yeah, an' I'll heal a mite quicker than a human if I could just have some blood."�

The Father stared at him in shock, wondering if the vampire meant he wanted to drink from him. He could accept the fact this creature existed, even accept he was inherently good, but had no desire to become his latest meal.

Spike shook his head, "No, you ninny! Not from you! Pig's blood, there's some leftover in the freezer."�

The thought of the vamp's dinner was a little too much after the events of the evening so far. "I-I'll, I'll just go and help the others with the windows."� The Father left the room swiftly, leaving Buffy to heat up some blood.

Spike laughed and pulled Buffy into a toe curling kiss, he felt wetness on her face and withdrew his lips from hers to ask, "What's wrong?"�

"I-I nearly lost you, Spike, Darla nearly ended your existence tonight, my Grandma is out there parading around dressed in my mother's body and I'm tired, just so damn tired of it all."�

The poor girl hadn't slept properly in days and he wanted nothing more than to gather her up into his arms and take her to bed. There was work to be done and he needed to get some more blood into him to heal properly. Darla was gone but Dru was more powerful than him too, the others would be coming for them soon enough and Father Michael had work to do in the house, he'd overheard the him talking to Grace about the cleansing ritual which was to be performed immediately. Buffy needed her training and things between Grace and Buffy needed to be mended, explanations made.

He brushed her hair away from her face and smoothed the tears from her face with his thumbs.

"Hush, my little warrior, we'll find it in us to carry on. I know it's weird, but Grace would never hurt your mum. You know Joyce, she wasn't gettin' any of this, there just isn't time to try to explain it. I've gotta say I was kinda glad it wasn't your mum as we'd have had the devil's own job explaining me to her, such I was all shirtless an'..."�

"Sexy." She muttered, her pupils blown wide as she traced his naked thigh, pulling at a thread of denim along the line of his crotch.

"Err,"� he cleared his throat, "Yeah, err, that too." He smirked.

"Would it help if you fed from me?"� She whispered into his ear, suckling on his lobe and causing his cock to stiffen instantly.

He caught her wrist in a millisecond. "Don't, Buffy, don't suggest that, don't you know how fast I could drain you? Quicker than you could drink a shake! You are not food," he hissed. "You're my girl an' I love you, 'm not gonna drink from you!"�

Buffy pouted, "It's because I'm not good enough?"�

He moved to a sitting position on the kitchen table, "Not, bleedin' likely, what a crock o' shit, pet! Your blood would be delectable, delicious an' I don' t know if I could control myself not to take it all. Once the demon takes over I don't know what he'll do. I know he loves you too, but it's been so long for us, denying our true nature and feedin' on anythin' I could get my hands on. It's not you, never you, my lovely Buffy." He kissed her fingertips.�

Grace had moved toward the kitchen, intending to regroup with them and check on Spike, when she paused as she overheard the last bit of their conversation. As soon as Buffy has suggested Spike drink from her, Grace had stilled in shock. When she heard Spike refuse her offer, she turned promptly on her heel and returned to the foyer. She promptly grabbed Kyle by the elbow, pulling him aside from where he'd been conversing with Piper. "I know you're a savvy young man. Do you think you could get into the hospital and get some human blood? I wouldn't ask, but we must make Spike strong enough to withstand another attack and, unless where going to have a blood drive here at the house, there is no other way."�

Kyle scratched his head, "Yeah, reckon I could, got a mate who works there as a cleaner, I'll call him."�

"Good boy."� Grace said patting his arm.

...

Drusilla wanted her vengeance so badly she could taste it, along with the few stray bits of fur that had caught in her canines. She headed back to town to wait it out. There was still the issue of finding her daddy and now her Grandmum was dusted, a terrible calamity. But all had become clear; Daddy would make it alright again. Angelus would care for her and dust her naughty boy William for her.

Her hound, whom she had named 'Diablo' would be difficult to explain to the owner of the hotel they resided in, but she decided she would simply have to eat them if they complained.

Diablo whined, apparently feeling her tension, and she patted his head to calm him.

_"Shh. Rrruff. Bad dog"_


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We left the crew in the aftermath of Darla's staking, with Buffy showing true heroism which gives us hope that she may be able to finish off the scourge which torments the living (and one un-dead!) and become stronger than she believes.

**Present day, the House**

Joyce woke with a start to Buffy sitting by her bedside caressing her hand.

“I’ve had the most terrible dream, baby, I’m so glad you’re here. Oh, my, the things that happened…they seemed so real.” Joyce put her hand to her head and winced like her head hurt.

“Hush, mom, you’ve had a fever, you scared me a little.” Buffy wasn’t totally lying; her mother had been sick, but being possessed by a spirit and compelled to do things she would probably never have done on her own might worsen her condition.

“I-I ache so, every part of me feels like I’ve run the California International Marathon.”

“Perhaps you should rest a little. Come down when you’re feeling better?”

“But…”

“No buts,” Buffy interjected in a motherly way, just like Joyce might’ve if it were her daughter lying in the bed while sick.

“Everything is up to date with the house, I’ll make you some chamomile tea and maybe you could manage a little beef broth? The priest from the local church heard you weren’t feeling so good, he brought some over.” Buffy hated lying but they had to keep Joyce out of the way while the last of the cleansing ritual was carried out.

“How did he know I was sick? Buffy,” She grasped her daughter’s wrist, “I thought I saw something, back in London, I was going to tell him but then I thought…”

Buffy clasped both her mom’s hands in her own. “Mom, it’s OK, whatever you saw was probably down to your fever, the dreams and everything else. Now, be good and rest or we’ll never get the house finished.”

At that, Joyce nodded and settled back against her pillows. Buffy knew Joyce had never left a house unfinished and she felt tears prickle at the back of her eyes as she wondered how in the hell they would manage to get it all done with everything that was happening.

She felt, in the interest of full disclosure, they should have at least told her mother something, but she was overruled by the gang. The consensus was that the knowledge of what had happened to her and what was going on in the house might cause Joyce to have a nervous breakdown. They needed Joyce on their side and that wouldn’t be possible if she needed a sedative to deal with the horror of someone taking over her body and the likelihood she might be accosted by malevolent spirits or vampires.

Grace had vacated Joyce and left her sleeping soundly in her bed, but she was still present and cringed as they all discussed what to tell Joyce. Buffy could barely look at her. She felt what her grandmother had done was a kind of rape; repressing Joyce   
and using her body without her consent, regardless of whether it was for a good reason, was certainly an abuse of her powers.   
They had work to do and Buffy would have to let it go for now. They needed Grace and she was her blood kin, even if she wasn’t her most favourite person right now.   
…

Father Michael drew the drapes over the high windows in the living room so Spike could enter the room. He and Grace had decided that room was the best place to begin the cleansing ritual, so Spike could at least get to work looking over the tomes which lay within.

Once he’d seen Grace leave Joyce’s body he wasn’t sure he would ever see the world in the same way again. He’d watched a programme on the TV once which had a ghost, a vampire and a werewolf who lived in the same house. It was good but he would never have told the Archbishop he watched such things, these programmes were not prescribed watching for the clergy. The entire situation was like living in a nightmare. His head hurt from imbibing the communion wine the previous evening. Was that only last night? So much had happened between then and now, and in the cold light of day, it all seemed like a dream.  At the realization, exhaustion seeped into his bones.

Now he was being followed around the house by a woman who’d passed over twenty years ago. His thoughts on helping her to cross over and accept her God would have to wait, but he was determined he wouldn’t leave her loitering on this plane.

He was concerned that he hadn’t yet made the call to the police about the dead body he’d found on the moor and knew he’d have to spill his guts in the confessional after all of this. After this he wasn’t sure he’d be able to go back to his vocation. He still believed, but he had begun to have doubts himself; how could his Lord and Saviour allow such creatures to live alongside the humans whose souls he’d sworn to protect?   
…

Buffy and Spike had gone to Spike’s room in the attic and cleared up the mess the Others had created. Both were exhausted and their tidying only lasted about ten minutes before they gave up.

“I don’t know what to do.” Buffy huffed, sitting in a tatty armchair and picking angrily at the threads which covered its arms. “I don’t think I can do this!” She huffed, sitting back with her arms crossed, “I can’t keep lying to mom and I can’t be what they want me to be!”

Spike stopped and laid a pile of his best loved poetry books on a rickety table, the ones he’d been able to salvage at least--many other classics were lying ruined on the floor, their pages strewn around the room. He was heartbroken to see such well loved literature ripped and torn to shreds by the bastards who terrorised them all.

He crouched before her, his hands resting upon her knees, involuntarily hissing lightly from the pain of his broken ankle, “You listen to me, pet, you want someone to tell you they believe in you? You’ve bloody well got it. You want someone to listen to your pity-ditty, then you’re out of luck.”

She tried to scoot away. He knew she wouldn’t understand, she’d heard his words as a betrayal.

“Pity-ditty, what even is that! I knew you would think I was just some pitiful girl playing at being a hero, god! Why did I even…”

He held her knees steady, firmly, but not so he would bruise her.

“Now, you’re gonna listen to me,” he warned, his voice dropping low, “Or do I have to spank you?”

“S-spank? W-wha...?”

She was so shocked she stopped trying to stand and fell back in the seat with a gorgeous blush on her cheeks.

He chuckled. “As I was tryin’ to say before I was rudely interrupted.” He watched her almost choke as she spluttered in annoyance. “I’ve been alive a lot longer than you and I’ve made some colossal mistakes, a lotta wrong calls. Fuck, Buffy, look where they’ve got me?”

She stilled as she listened, her tired eyes glinting fiercely in the low light from a Victoriana chintz lamp, the only light in the gloomy room. Apart from her, he thought. “You are one mistake I haven’t made in my one-hundred plus years, you are…sod it! There is only one word I can think of an’ you’ll laugh, but you’re effulgent, bloody resplendent, you dazzle me an’ I can’t let you go. I need you to keep tryin’ because if you give up then I may as well let you dust me. We’ve bin through too much to turn back now, baby.”   
…

His eyes were so bright, so eagerly awaiting her reply. She wanted to tell him everything would be alright, that they would be together forever, and she could learn to embrace the power her grandmother told her she had within her...but she was so weary and she was afraid.

“I’m not lying to you, Spike, I don’t know if I’m cut out to be the hero of this story,” she told him frankly.

“No-one’s askin’ you to be, sweetheart.” He kissed her hand so softly she felt her eyelids flutter at the sensation. “We’re all here for you, we just need you to try, that’s all anyone can ask. We’re not sayin’ you should be the only one fightin’ these fuckers, but we need you strong.” He dropped his eyes to the floor, but not before she caught the flash of fear in them, “Because if you aren’t…then the unthinkable might just happen, you know it.”

She couldn’t hold it back, the floodgates opened. she was worn out from being panic-stricken and living on her nerves, afraid for them all and fearful of what might happen to them when they faced the Others.

As she sobbed she felt herself lifted into his arms, her face smattered with loving kisses as he lay her onto what was left of his bed. She didn’t even notice the ripped sheets and torn and dusty coverlet as her head was drawn into his tight, cool chest. One hand skimmed her hair and the other made circles over her upper back as he soothed her.

“Not gonna let anything happen to you, love, never gonna let you go,” He whispered, “I love you.”

She sniffled as her sobs began to subside, she was safe here for now with him. He made her feel like she was cherished and loved and she let that feeling of comfort envelope her, as is his lover were a blanket draped gently over her exhausted body. She drifted away into a slumber, forgetting it all momentarily, and letting much needed sleep claiming her for a time.   
…

**Present Day – The Royal Hotel in town**

Hunger gripped him like nothing he’d ever known and he felt himself snarl as he sat up into the bed. He could smell blood, the only thing he needed, wanted. Any sense of self was gone, only the hunger, the craving and the sense of loss consumed him.   
He looked to his hand and felt a large dry nose sniffing his palm, a dog whimpered and then looked to him intently before moving to a man who was tied at the end of the bed, wriggling and moaning as he tried to escape his bindings. He heard a heartbeat ringing in his ears, his face changed and unexpected fangs almost pierced his lower lips, he scrambled to the end of the bed, his golden eyes darting around the room as he heard singing.

(To the melody of Frère Jacques) _Are you sleeping? Are you sleeping? Brother John, Brother John, Morning bells are ringing! Morning bells are ringing! Ding, dang, dong. Ding, dang, dong._

The brunette sat brushing a doll’s curls at a table set for tea. A collection of other dolls sat politely with tea cups set before them, one with a blindfold over its eyes. The dark haired woman carried on humming for a while before looking up.

“Where is she?” he growled. He knew who he meant, the blonde who’d sired him, the one he was to follow. He remembered nothing from the previous night, but he had an insistent expectation that the blonde should have been waiting for him when he woke.

“Grand mama is gone, you shall be mine now, you shall be my Heathcliff.” The woman said as she continued to hum a new tune to herself. “Diablo, sic.” She said with a spine chilling giggle as she pressed the button on a CD player.

A familiar song sang through the room.

_“Out on the wiley, windy moors, We'd roll and fall in green, You had a temper like my jealousy. Too hot, too greedy, how could you leave me, When I needed to possess you, I hated you, I loved you, too….”_

The dog whined again, his nose buried in the man’s neck, nipping it tightly before he moved and sat like a good dog before the man, an expectant look on its face.

What was left of John Moorland moved in a flash and crouched before the human, his head cocked as he heard its heart rate accelerate.

The man barely had time to scream as the fledgling gorged on his throat.   
…

**Present day – The House**

“Spike?”

He felt a tug at the sleeve of his shirt as his he came back to reality. Buffy was so warm and had snuggled into him, her leg lay trapped between his, her wonderful hair tickled his face, her scent driving him wild. She snored lightly and he wanted to stay that way with her forever.

“Sod off.” He muttered, rubbing his head on the pillow and pulling her tighter into his body.

“Spike, Grace told me to come an’ find you, to give you this an’ tell you can go downstairs now.” Kyle said nervously.

Neither man had spoken to each other yet, but Kyle had tried his best to protect them all that past night. Spike had to admit the boy was brave, and reluctantly realized he was right; they needed to take care of this ritual, and soon, or none of them would be safe.

Spike eased his arm from around Buffy and sat up. She whimpered once, but then let out a loud snort as she grasped the pillow and smooshed her head into it. Both men smiled and Spike took the warm mug from Kyle.

He took a sip and looked up, alarmed. “’S human? What the bloody hell you lot bin up to?” He said, frozen, as he stared at the young man.

“Stop your blether, you mardy arse, I cadged some from’t hospital, happen I’ll take it back then?”

“And in the King’s English?” Spike said, raising the eyebrow which now had only a slight red scar cutting through it, with an amused smirk.

Kyle bowed before him, “Your majesty,” he said in perfect southern English but with an extremely sarcastic lilt, “The king died in nineteen fifty-two, Queen Elizabeth the second has been on the throne since then and my mate nicked that blood from the fucking hospital,” Kyle shook his head in amusement before continuing, “Oh yeah, and a mardy arse is a bad tempered old git! Would you like me to take it away?”

Spike looked at the sleeping beauty beside him and began to laugh along with Kyle, “Fuck, no!” he took a huge swig from the mug, revelling in a taste he hadn’t experienced for over a century.

Strangely, his face didn’t change; human blood wasn’t the only thing he lived for now. His light, his purpose lay beside him in a bed where he’d yearned for her all these years without even knowing who she might be. Dru had become a distant dream when he’d come to the realisation that she had left him forever at her sire’s bidding.

Seeing his sire that night had only reinforced how he felt about Buffy. He hated that Dru was lost and alone, that Darla was dusted and gone, they were family after all, but they were his past, much as Angelus was, though the bastard lingered in this house alongside him. There was no way he could make things right for Dru; he hoped she had gone for good because there could be no reconciliation between them, not now. The vampire he’d once adored was now a nothing, a nobody compared to the girl who lay beside him, who trusted him and was willing to give him everything that she was. He knew he would kill for Buffy, even kill Dru if it came to it, he just hoped he wouldn’t have to.

His laughter stopped as he tasted the blood fully and he became pensive as he watched Buffy sleep. It was an ambrosia he could savour now, but never become accustomed to. He didn’t mind, he’d give it and anything else up for her. To be hers.   
…

Kyle watched them for a moment before leaving the room, satisfied that his friend was safe with a creature he hadn’t even known existed before now. The way Spike looked at Buffy was the way Piper looked at him, with total adoration, and it made him want to head right back to her side, his barmpot woman.

 


	28. Chapter 28

“Come on’ sweetheart, let’s have you back in the land o’ the livin’.” Spike, roused her gently by nuzzling her neck with his nose, taking time to revel in her scent. 

She’d slept for six hours solid and they had no time to leave her to sleep for more, the midday sun was already high in the sky, he could sense it. He couldn’t leave her alone when there was a chance more than one big bad was about but she needed her sleep, the poor girl was exhausted following the events of the past few days.

Buffy stretched and he could help but feel himself rise to the occasion as she extended her arms above her head, a sweet smile playing on her lips as she woke. Her eyes were still closed, as if she just wanted to hang on to those last few moments of peace before she came around. 

She buried her head in his chest, muttering about not wanting to get up and wrapped her arms around him, letting out another light snore. Bloody hell, what did he have to do to rouse this woman? He lay back and pulled her on top of him, the sharp movement woke her and she let out squeak of shock. 

“What are you doing?” She said, her eyes wide and bleary but incredibly cute none the less.

“Nothin’ I’d like to be doin’, pet, just giving you a wakeup call. You fell asleep again.”

She flushed, “I think there are, uh, parts of you, which are very much awake.”

“We’ll what can I tell you baby? Fightin’ gets me hot, you get me hot, hell, everythin’ you do…”

“Gets you hot, yeah, I get it.”

He smirked and raised his eyebrow, instantly amused as he felt her nipples stiffen against him. 

“So,” She said, changing the subject, “Your leg seems better? You know, as you don’t seem to be in much pain with me, uh, here.”

“Your mate, Kyle, brought me up some blood, did me the world of good. It’ll need a bit more time but should be alright soon.”

She was playing with the fine hairs in his chest, her forefinger tracing a line over his pecs, the scent of her arousal was heavy in the air and she bit her lip as she moved to straddle him. Her hips moved slightly as she settled on – what was by now – his incredibly hard cock, her intentions plain. 

He eased the upper half of his body up, until he was resting on his elbows, “Sweetheart, we have a lot to do today, an’ much as I’d like to spend that time makin’ love to you in every way possible, we need to get movin’.”

She pouted, “I just wanted to pretend things were OK for a moment, it is alright? To pretend?”

“Baby, you can pretend all you like but, truth is, we’ve gotta face this head on. You saw how Darla nearly took me down last night, I fought my bloody hardest and it still almost wasn’t enough. If you and the Father hadn’t…” He gulped and closed his eyes.

“Hush, it’s OK, we’ll be OK, look, I’m done with the make believe, Buffy is all about the reality, I’m reality girl.”

He smiled, she seemed so young sometimes and he hoped that would be a blessing rather than a curse, that she’d soak up Grace’s teachings rather than being stubborn about it. There was still the confrontation with Grace to come, he knew it, Buffy hadn’t been happy with her, not one bit, but the two needed to learn to get over it, there were bigger fish to fry. 

“Come on, I’ve got a plan.” She said, her eyes lighting up before quickly scooting off the bed and heading out the door.

“Are you coming, Spike?” She called back.

He chuckled sardonically at that, his mind ever straying to the double entendre, before he got up, searched for his battered and threadbare t-shirt and pulled it on, discarding his torn shirt.    
…

“Oh, no, you can’t meet my mom in that.” Buffy said, chewing her lip as they reached the nursery. She began opening drawers and throwing out clothes.

“What? What do you mean ‘meet your mom, err, mum’?” He started to pace. 

“Look, now Father Michael’s here, I’m gonna introduce you to her as someone the Father trusts and tell her he thinks it’ll be good for you to help get the house ready. That would mean you’d have to stay here, mom will never know you were already here. So, what do you think?” 

He pulled her into a bear hug as she handed him a grey Sunnydale High t-shirt. “Think you’re amazin’, love, my clever girl.” He snuggled into her and kissed her neck.

She pushed him gently back. “Like you said, Spikey, we’ve got things to do. Now, I think this should fit?” She said, spreading the tee over his chest.

“Yeah, if you want me to look like some soddin’ male cheerleader type.” He scoffed.

“Spike, this isn’t a fashion show, you just need to look presentable when you meet mom and, no offense, honey, but you look at little like a bum.”

“I do?” He said sighing as he looked down at himself. He supposed he might through her eyes. It wasn’t through want of trying, he’d tried his best to make himself look respectable with limited means. 

“Look, as soon as I can, I’ll go into town and get you some new jeans and tee’s, is there anything else you need? Boots? Or Boxers?” She coloured when she mentioned undergarments. This girl had seen ever part of him and yet was still red-faced when taking about underwear. 

“Yeah, boots would be good. Never saw the need for underwear.”

Her eyes had glazed over, no doubt she was thinking of the merits of his non underwear situation as she was biting her lip again. 

“Buffy?” He questioned softly.

She snapped out of her daydream and quickly began throwing the clothes back into her dresser, her face as red as a beetroot.

He shucked his tee and pulled on the new one. It was a little tight, but it fit. 

He caught her staring again, clothing balled in her hand. She trembled, gnawing on her lip again, Christ, he loved it when she did that.

“You’re just a tease.” She said.

“Never said otherwise, pet.” He chuckled as he followed her out of the room.   
…

“Oh, Buffy, I’m so glad you’re feeling better, Kyle said you were exhausted. I-I feel so bad, Buffy, leaving you here alone to deal with all this. I-I was afraid. Once I saw that, that thing, I was terrified to come back.” Piper babbled as they met her outside Joyce’s room.

Buffy hugged her, “Look, I can’t say it’s been easy but you came when I needed you and anyway, Spike’s been here.”

“Yeah, your resident vampire, easy on the eyes, isn’t he?” Piper giggled as she whispered in Buffy’s ear conspiratorially. 

“Yeah, yeah he is.” She Buffy sighed, looking right at Spike who smirked and raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“A-are you sure he isn’t dangerous? I mean, he’s a vampire and we all saw his face when he went up against that other vampire, scared the shite out of me, I nearly wet my knickers.”

“Piper, he would never harm any of us, you know, he did that to protect us all, not just me.” 

Piper nodded, seeming to understand what Buffy had told her.

“Is mom OK?” Buffy asked.

“Yes, I’ve been to her room several times this morning bringin’ her tea and such. I think she’s feeling much better. She asked about her ankle, though.”

“What?”

“She asked why she had a bandage on her ankle. I had to tell her she hurt it while was sleepwalking when she had a fever, she seemed to buy that. I didn’t like to lie.”

Buffy nodded in agreement, she felt the same. “OK, Spike and I are headed there now, thank you for taking care of her, Piper.”

“That’s OK, I’ll see you downstairs?”

“Yep, we’ll be there soon.”   
…

Joyce was investigating the wound on her ankle when Buffy knocked on the door to her room and let herself in.

“You know, baby, this doesn’t seem like an injury I would’ve got in the house, it’s all scratched, like I’ve been walking through brambles.”

“Uh, yeah, well you knocked over the antique vase downstairs and its plinth got smashed too, so I think it was from that.” Buffy was pleased with her save and the explanation for the loss of the expensive vase.”

“Hmm.” Joyce muttered thoughtfully. She couldn’t work out why she’d walked in her sleep, she’d never done anything like that before, why would she start now? 

She was glad to see Piper back but the girl’s demeanour had told her she wasn’t telling her something. The local priest was downstairs barking orders and she could hear him reciting something.

“Mom, this is Spike. He’s, uh, h-he’s here to help with the renovation work, while you’re sick.” Buffy said, opening the door and ushering the vampire into the room, clutching his hand. The main bulk of the house was in shadow at this time of the day but her mother’s room was bright and sunny with very little shade. 

Joyce watched as the man in the doorway hesitated, stepping up to the long line of shadow which stopped right where the sun began. So, her instant suspicions were probably right, Buffy knew this man better than she was letting on, otherwise why would she be so comfortable as to clutch his hand? Joyce already knew there was something going on in this house and she could hazard a guess as to why the priest was here and why Buffy was so determined she might not find out. Joyce had tried to push her own gift – or rather her curse, as she thought - away in the past but at times of stress or when she didn’t have the strength to keep it at bay, it came back to her, just like it had to her own mother all those years ago. She’d hoped the gift had stopped with her and her daughter hadn’t inherited the terrible curse of seeing or speaking to the undead, but she remembered those times in India when Buffy was a child where she’d catch her giggling and playing with something which wasn’t there. Joyce wasn’t about to break down her own barriers to see what that had been and so she had dismissed her Aya and they left India shortly after. Letting the sprits in made it so hard to shut them out again, like heaving a drawbridge shut with only you at the windlass.

Buffy had never spoken of it but she’d had such night terrors as a child and into her early teens she had got up to her almost every night. On more than one occasion, Buffy had quieted before she arrived in the room and the wooden rocker had been swaying, as if someone had just vacated it.

She knew then her daughter had the very same abilities that she, herself, was afraid to acknowledge. 

Regardless of whether she used her ‘talents’ Joyce had always been able to read an aura, she saw that as a harmless skill which only aided her with her gut feeling when she met someone. I just made it easier to differentiate between the good and bad people in her life and it had saved her on more than one occasion from being swindled and entering a relationship with a man who was no good. 

The trouble was, she could see the pure reds and pinks of the aura of the man before her along with the very same colours surrounding her daughter. They were in love. She couldn’t fathom how this had happened in the few days since they’d arrived here and it appeared her daughter was going to continue to lie to her until she broke down and the truth outed. This was Buffy’s way as a child and she sensed her daughter would do the same under similar circumstances as an adult, one only had to wait.   
She heard the man shuffle uncomfortably as he waited for her to speak.

“So, Spike, it is as I thought when I first entered this house?” Joyce said her visage unreadable, she wasn’t going to give anything away.

“I’m sorry mam, I don’t know what you mean.” He said politely, appearing very uncomfortable under her steely gaze.

“My daughter thinks she can pull the wool over my eyes, so I suggest you begin talking, right now, young man.” 

“I, err, ‘m sorry, I’m not sure what you want me to say.” She watched him, he had guilt written all over his face. The young man had such expressive eyes, it was a wonder he tried to lie at all. She supposed, although far too young for her, he was an attractive man, athletic, slim build, striking blonde hair and full pink lips. Of course, she also noticed his chiselled features just as she noticed the look of utter adoration on her daughter’s face as she looked at him. He was also wearing Buffy’s High School t-shirt and she felt confident her daughter wouldn’t just give that away, she’d kept it as a memento. The other tell, of course, was the man’s bare feet. If he was here to work, he’d have work boots on and probably dockers or combat pants, he didn’t look like a labourer or builder.

“Spike, please don’t do me the dishonour of lying to me like me daughter is. You see, she is under the impression that I, her mother, who knows her better than anyone in this world and who can read her like a book, does not know that somethings going on in this house. You look like an honest person and I would like to come and sit in this seat here and tell me what is going on.” Joyce pointed to the chair next to her bed which was in direct sunlight.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.” He said, looking to the brighter side of the room and then back to his feet in the shade.

“Can’t or won’t, Spike? 

“Mom, he…”

“Stay out of this, Buffy.” Joyce warned. 

“Christ, this is worse than bein’ interrogated by Al Capone. Mam, I can’t sit in the chair but if someone were to pull it into the shade, then I’d happily sit an’ talk. The thing is, I have what you might call a skin condition, basically, if I go in the sun I burst into flames.”   
…

If Joyce was taken aback, she didn’t show it, she just asked Buffy to pull the chair into the shade.

“Buffy, you may leave us now. I think Spike and I have a great deal to talk about. Please close the door behind you.”

Buffy opened her mouth to complain but she saw her mother’s stern look and decided against it. Her mother was as stubborn as a mule when she wore that expression. 

She paced the corridor outside, unable to hear the conversation which carried on for well over an hour. Anxiety twisted her gut like that feeling you get just before you go over the top on a roller-coaster, a steady climb into hysteria.   
…..

Spike sat and looked at his hands, he wasn’t sure where this was going but he had to play this carefully, if Joyce didn’t like him he would be back to hiding in closets or back in the attic, which wasn’t safe for anyone.

“I’ll tell you what I think, shall I, Spike? I think the priest is here to do a cleansing of this house. Shall I tell you why I think that?”

Spike nodded, he wasn’t sure if he could make his mouth work, although he wasn’t in direct sunlight, the knowledge he was so close made him feel queasy.

“I think you have been in this house from the get go. I felt and heard things in this house which weren’t going to be explained away by old plumbing or the movement of an old building. I heard footsteps in the attic, I’ve seen shadows out of the corner of my eye on several occasions. The kettle has boiled on its own and my daughter was attacked in one of the bedrooms by something sinister. While I don’t expect that something was you, Spike, I do think you know what it is. Why don’t we just disperse with the pleasantries and get to the crux of what’s going on here?”

Spike cleared his throat. “Well, you see, it all started over a hundred years ago when I was trapped here…”

Honesty was always the best policy in his mind, he just had to hope everything didn’t come crashing down around him when he told her the truth.   
….

“Buffy?”

She felt Grace’s presence moments before she spoke and wondered how she could feel nervousness from the ghost, it was a strange feeling.

“Grace.” She said sullenly.

“I’d hoped you might have come to me earlier to begin your training?”

Buffy bit back her nasty comment, _well I hoped you wouldn't wear my mother like she was the latest style, we don't always get what we hope for..._

“I needed to sleep, I was so tired after the events of last night.”

Buffy turned and saw her grandmother dressed in her own suit, hat and the shoes she’d been buried in – not that Buffy actually knew that, she just guessed – she didn’t hover or float through the air like a spectre covered with a white sheet and she was far from Casper. She looked almost solid, like she belonged there. Buffy wondered at such strength from a ghost, was she this way because she had gifts? Or had she just been around the block enough times in the spirit world that she’d worked out how it all worked and used it to her advantage. 

“You know I had to, don’t you, Buffy?”

“Yes, I know but it didn’t have to be her!” She hissed, “You could’ve found someone else, left your own daughter in peace. Now she’s in there interrogating Spike!” She said with tears in her eyes as she pointed harshly at the door to Joyce’s room.

Grace looked shocked at that statement, “You’ve introduced the vampire to your mother? Oh, lord, I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of anything so funny in all my days!” Grace smiled, prompting Buffy to give her a watery grin and the two began to laugh.

Buffy’s anger had dispersed but Grace wasn’t yet totally forgiven.

“Once we've finished here, I need to speak with the gang and then we can go to the living room, its big enough for what we need and the father is nearly finished, he just has to do the attic.   
….

Father Michael had almost finished the exhausting ritual and had been somewhat surprised that he hadn’t run into any problems.

He’d expected some resistance from the Other, but it had been simple, he’d used holy water along with his thurible, filled with sweet smelling, incense.

“Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do Thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host - by the Divine Power of God - cast into hell, Satan and all the evil spirits, who prowl through the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.”

He’d finished the attic and Spike’s room, hearing nothing, feeling nothing. He wasn’t so naïve to believe evil had been banished altogether, these cleansings took more than one attempt, more often than not, but he was optimistic as he headed down the corridor past the bedrooms in the east wing. 

Buffy was talking with Grace and they were both watching a closed door intently.

“What are we listenin’ for?” He said as he drew up behind them.

“Mom’s talking with Spike, hush, were trying to hear.” Buffy said, glancing at Father Michael with mock sternness.

“I’m not sure it’s polite to listen in on others conver…wait! Are you telling me you’ve introduced your mother to a vampire? This I must hear.”

The three gathered in the hallway straining to hear what was said. 

A few minutes later the door opened and shell-shocked Spike left the room. “William, you may send in my mother next and then the priest.”  Joyce called after him.

Spike stopped Grace before she went into the room, “She’s like the bloody gestapo, that one, should be workin’ for the bloody CIA, she knows everythin’ asides from you, err, takin’ over her body, I couldn’t bring myself to…anyway, good luck, you’re gonna need it, love!”

Spike grabbed Buffy and kissed her soundly, glad to be out of the firing line.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not beta'd so please forgive any of my mistakes.

“So, it’s true, you really are here and you that’s caused all of this trouble! I knew it was you I saw and if there’s anyone who could pull this crap off, it’s you, mother!” Joyce yelled at the ghost of her mother. She was startled to see that what Spike had told her was the truth, her mother stood before her as bold as brass, looking quite a bit older than when she last saw her but still smartly dressed and sporting a charming and warm smile. 

“And, dear daughter, if there was anyone on the planet who could block out so much going on around her for so long, it’s you. I’ve been trying to reach you for years, but no, she has to be the stubborn and fearful girl she always was, doesn’t understand it so doesn’t want to know. Isn’t that right, Joyce?”

“Can I just say, mother, you are the one who is here when she shouldn’t be. Spike’s told me everything that’s going on, he told me you all decided it was easier to keep me in the dark!” Joyce yelled back.

“Easier for them, for me, it broke my heart. Don’t you know how much I love you, you are my only child, you ran away at fifteen and I had to be content with finding out about your life through occasional letters. I died the night your daughter was born! Can you understand it now? How would you have felt if Buffy upped and ran off to god knows where at fifteen years old? Would your heart be smashed beyond repair?”

Joyce felt tears welling up, her throat closing as she tried to hold them back.

Both were silent, just staring at each other angrily.

“I wanted to come home, mom, I just thought you wouldn’t want me, not after the things I’d done, after what had happened to me.” Joyce said softly, tears running down her face. 

Grace moved closer, sitting on the chair recently vacated by Spike. Joyce smelled lavender perfume, like the one her mother had always wore, and the realisation she had smelled that perfume on many occasions around her throughout her life came back to her. She wasn’t afraid when her mother touched her hand. It was like a whisper across her skin but it felt like home, it felt like she was finally home with her mom again and the tears began again in earnest.

“I would’ve forgiven you anything, my darling, you were there light of my life and that light went out the day you left me.” Grace said kindly, “I would’ve given anything to have you safe and home with me.”

“Mom, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Joyce broke down, feeling herself cocooned within her mother’s love. It wasn’t exactly like a real hug, but she felt it all the same. She realised then that not many people ever had this chance to reconcile with their parents after death. She’d been gifted with an opportunity to make things right between them. The feeling of resentment she had previously felt dwindled and she allowed herself just to appreciate the fact her mother was there. 

“Joyce, I’m here now and we have things which need to be resolved. There isn’t much time before this house is under attack again from this unknown entity. I need you to be strong for Buffy and I want you to accept your own gift, I’ve always known you had it in you, you just built a wall so high nothing could penetrate it. Do you think you could help us? We need you more than ever before something terrible happens.”

“But we could just leave here, Buffy and I could get the first flight back to California?”

“And leave the evil free to feed on others? To leave your job uncompleted and your reputation in tatters? No, that is not the Joyce I have come to know over the years. That Joyce protects her family and does what is right.”

“I’m afraid, mom, what if I can’t do it?”

“You can do it, you can rise to the challenge, I know you can,” Grace soothed, “I’m here for you, I’ll be here for you until I no longer can be.”

Joyce looked up, “You feel the pull?” She said fearfully.

“I have felt the urge to cross for many years, darling, but never so keenly as in this house. There is not only evil here, there is something else, something akin to light and love. I just don’t know how long it will be before I will be given the opportunity to cross over again. If it were up to Father Michael, it would be today. He’s a determined guy, he wants to make everything right.”

“Ah, yes, the priest, I’ll get dressed, I’m feeling better.”

Grace watched her daughter set about tidying her hair and washing her face before she dressed.

Shakily, Joyce opened the door and was followed out of the room by her mother to where the priest was standing, a look of unease on his face as he observed them. 

Joyce held her hand out to Father Michael politely. “Father, I believe we have a lot to thank you for. It seems we are living in the strangest of circumstances. Do we have any other supernatural creatures in the house, other than those Spike described?”

Grace felt small fingers tug at her own. “Oh, yes, we have one more, a tiny boy called Tommy, he is my charge. He is here too.”   
Joyce closed her eyes, mentally willing the wall she had built in her mind to open, it felt like she was opening the doors of perception. Once she opened them again she saw the cutest little boy standing beside Grace, hand in hand. She also felt a terrible danger rumble through her body, there was something in this house which was evil, something foul and malevolent. She rubbed her stomach to ease of the feeling of instant nausea which overtook her. 

Swallowing bile down, she gave a jittery smile, but she acknowledged the boy. “Tommy, I’m very pleased to meet you. I’m Joyce,” Her eyes flicked back to her mothers, “And I am Grace’s daughter.”

Grace nodded in understanding, the simple words meant so much more, they meant acceptance, renewed trust, they meant love. 

 

“Now, we all have work to do.” Grace announced.   
…

Spike, Buffy and Kyle had the books and papers from the secret room strewn in no order across the kitchen table when Joyce arrived with Grace and Father Michael. Tommy ran to Spike where he sat on the shade and climbed up onto his lap. Spike was taken aback, but allowed the small boy to wriggle up, grinning further as Buffy took his free hand in her own, ready to present a united front to her mother. 

“Father, Kyle, you are very welcome in this house and I’m grateful for your help.” She said graciously, not noticing Grace proudly looking on at her daughter’s excellent manners. “Spike, you have no choice but to be here but you make my daughter happy and I hope you hold true to your word.”

Piper was pottering around, making a huge lunch of spaghetti and meatballs for the famished and exhausted crew. “Piper, may I help you with that?” Joyce wandered over to the stove and Buffy elbowed Spike, “What was that all about?”

He had hoped to explain later, in a more private setting but leaned over to speak lowly in her ear. “Your mum, err, she said she accepted my story but she said if I ever try to eat anyone in this house that she’ll get out her trusty axe, said she has it under her bed for occasions such as this. All in all, she was pretty decent about the whole vampire thing an’ I have a feelin’ I got off lightly.” He said, looking relieved. 

Buffy pretended to reply but instead stuck her tongue in Spike’s ear, causing him to let out a girlish yip. Everyone turned to stare. “I, err, I think I saw a spider?” He said sheepishly, ignoring the strange looks the others gave him. Buffy squeezed his knee and giggled.  

Father Michael spotted something in one of the diaries Lizzie had left locked away in the secret room. “Seems Lizzie hadn’t much trouble tracking down the witch who placed the protection spells on the house. She still lives in the town I think, Mrs. Hannigan, she runs the gift shop. You know, I always thought it was strange how much magic stuff was in that shop, she told me it sold well when I asked but I could never see a link to any supernatural folklore in the area.” He said thoughtfully. “Happen I could go now and have a chat to the old bird, see what she knows of this place. Sadly, there’s also the matter of the body on’t moor. I’ll need to stop into the local cop shop to tell them what I found. It does mean they’ll be hangin’ around an’ askin’ a lot of questions. Oh, lord, the church! I haven’t opened the church, either.”

Buffy, almost flew out of her seat, “Can I come too? I have some stuff I need in town and your story will sound more plausible to the witch if I’m there to back you up?”

Following a hearty lunch, the Father and Buffy headed off to find his car at the top of the steep slope to the valley. Not before Joyce hugged Buffy tight and told her to be careful. Buffy had avoided the fallout from her mother’s meet with Spike and Grace so far but she knew there would be a ‘talk’ at some point.   
….

The local shops were sparse but there was a gentleman’s tailors which also sold off the rack clothing, it was a little pricier than she’d planned for. Still, needs must when the devil drives she told herself as she picked up two plain black t-shirts, two button-down shirts, one in midnight blue and another in red plus two pairs of black Levi’s and a belt. She thought the blue shirt would complement Spike’s eyes, the red may give him a little colour in his pale face. There was also an Army and Navy store where she picked up a pair of combat boots in his size. A worn, second hand, leather duster was on the sale rack, she looked it over, did vampire’s need coats? She didn’t think they felt the cold. She went to put it back, undecided, but then changed her mind and slung it over her arm as she went to the cashier’s desk. Need it or not, her vampire was getting a coat. 

Father Michael had wanted to report the body on the moor to the police but there had been no sign of it when they arrived at the spot on their way to the car. Both Buffy and the Father felt a shiver of danger shoot down their spine as they realised the man may now be one of the undead. They didn’t speak much of it but after searching the area they had given up, the father muttering a prayer under his breath.   
…

The priest was already in the gift shop when Buffy arrived, talking with Mrs. Hannigan in hushed tones. Her eyes were darting all around her anxiously as he explained their predicament. They both looked up as Buffy came in, laden down with bags.

“Ah, here’s the lass now. Will you tell Mrs. Hann…err, Glinda, what’s bin ‘appenin’ down at Dead Men’s Reach.”

Mrs Hannigan held out her hand to shake Buffy’s. “’Ow do, I ‘ope you’ll call me Glinda too, twee for a witch, I know, but then me ma was a big fan of the Wizard of Oz.”

“Hi, Glinda, the thing is, there’s some supernatural thing which wants to gobble us all up, my vampire included, and we just really need your help.”

“Buffy, lass, I know the terror you speak of. Lizzie Beaumont, she were a friend o’ mine for many years, told ‘er she were daft as a brush for stayin’ in that ‘ouse down on’t fell.” Glinda swallowed, averting her eyes. “I were a whipper snapper the last I   
entered that house, around twenty-year old an’ it must have been over forty year ago when Lizzie died. I’m an old woman now, I don’t know how I can help you.”

Buffy clutched Glinda’s hand, understanding her loss, “I’m sorry you lost your friend but if we can’t get this evil under control, or gone, it’s going to continue to cause terror in the house forever. Last time you found a way to protect some rooms from them?”

“Happen I did, flower, t’ was a strong reflect away harm spell, but I would have to look it up, you see, I don’t rightly practice anymore. I-I…” she stopped, her hands kneading at her handkerchief, “I stopped because of what I felt in that house. There is something there which needs to be let alone. If you just left, its wouldn’t be able to hurt you anymore.” Glinda began to weep.

“I-I don’t want to go back, whatever haunts that place is dark and so old, it scares me to death.”

“Glinda, there is no way these people can just walk away. Spike, he’s trapped in the house and they would be leaving him to certain death.” The Father said gently.

“Ah lass, I forgot about Spike, flippin’ ‘eck, h-he’s s-still there? After all this time, poor, poor lad.” She eyed them both, Buffy thought, trying to ascertain their knowledge of Spike.

“Spike is my,” How should she describe her undead lover who was over one-hundred years old? “Spike, is my boyfriend and I love him, you know he’s a vampire so why don’t we cut to the chase. Do you know how to break the curse which keeps him there? Lizzie has tons of notes but nothing which hints at what to do.”

Glinda shook her head sadly. “I don’t know, Lizzie asked me several times but I couldn’t ‘elp. I put the feelers out to the Wiccan world but no one would involve themselves, they said if t’ curse was performed by a gypsy woman that only a true Romany could lift it. Lizzie tried speaking to some passin’ travellers and got sent away with a flea in’t ear for her trouble, they called them filthy Shilmulo or some such, said they’d rather die than help such vermin. Lizzie was heartbroken as she knew she was dyin’ and she knew that would ‘appen before she could break the curse for him. She died despairing of that, he loved and cared for her until the very end, but she couldn’t give the lad the simple freedom he needed. I can’t imagine what it must have been like all these years, trapped in that house with those boggarts!”

Buffy felt anger surge from her belly but pushed it back down. This person knew Spike had been alone in the house but never attempted to help him, she’d left him to rot, to feed on rats. God even dropping in some pig’s blood to him would’ve helped. 

“It’s too late to worry about that now but could you kindly look for those spell books for us? And anything else you can give us.” She was rapidly losing patience. 

Glinda rushed off to climb the steps to the store room above the shop and Father Michael placed his hand on Buffy’s arm, as if he’d read her mind. “Fear does strange things to people, lass. I’ve been to war and could tell you many reactions of hardened men who did the craziest things in the name of fear. She’s a good woman, she just allowed herself to forget him, because the opposite would be living each day knowing she had to go to that house which petrified her to see a man she didn’t truly know and give him food which would be hard to obtain without people noticing. Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone.” He said kindly reminding her that things were never just black and white. 

….

Back at the house, everyone sat down with a large pot of tea and poured through the books, mapping what Lizzie had done and when.

Spike was becoming more and more frustrated as no end seemed to be in sight. There were curses upon curses in the book but nothing which told him how he would escape this prison, how he could be with Buffy anywhere but here. He stood suddenly and left the room, needing to be alone.

He was desperate and the dark tunnel of his future loneliness seemed so much longer without her to light it. He would never make her stay, anyway, she couldn’t stay here, he couldn’t have such a creature live in the dark with him, trapped in one room, even if they could defeat the Other. What sort of life could that be for such as girl as her? She would pretend to like it, for his sake, she’d tell him she was happy and she was with him because she loved him. But sooner or later she would leave him, to seek the light and that would be the day he would end it all. There would be nothing else for him to do, he couldn’t face an eternity without her. He almost wished he hadn’t fallen in love with her because that would have made his decision not to go on like this so much easier. 


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is still unbeta'd so I apologise for any mega mistakes.

“We must be united as one, all of us have a job and we mustn’t believe we’re safe, the Others have been banished by Grace and the cleansing for the moment but we cannot believe this is permanent.” Father Michael paced as he spoke, voicing his thoughts.

“Who are the Others?” Joyce asked, her back poker straight as she asked a perfectly valid question for someone who hadn’t been privy to their terror up until now.

“Bunch of bastards is what they are.” Spike muttered, loud enough to be heard by all. They all turned to him and stared. He tutted and rolled his eyes before walking to sit next to Joyce on the white sofa. The room was in semi-darkness during daylight for his sake and the white drapes swayed as a breeze blew through the room from the open French doors. “They are a scourge, an evil and malevolent bunch of spirits who have the power to do anything they bloody well choose, they have no other purpose but to harm any being within this house. Hell, they hounded poor Tommy for centuries, kept me trapped in my room for decades. From reading Lizzie’s book’s, I found a few things that enlightened me. The head of the Aurelian line, my line…”

“A vampire family line?” Joyce interrupted.

“Yeah, a line of vampire royalty, sired by my great grandsire; for whatever use that’s soddin’ been to me since I was a fledge, since I’ve spent most of my time trapped in this house. The Master is the head of the clan, I couldn’t tell you if he still exists now. Lizzie’s books said he had the house built and she found out he and his minions took victims from this town which was almost savaged by plague. Seems he built the house over a plague pit filled mostly with healthy victims who had been devoured by vampires but not turned. They never crossed over, they stayed in the house, hoping they would have their revenge an’ I’ve gotta say, they want me badly an’ without my Lizzies help I wouldn’t be standing here now. If they can’t have the Master, I’m the next best bloody thing.”

“Yes, you mentioned Lizzie when we talked,” Joyce said thoughtfully, placing her chin on her entwined fingers, “You also said there were others of your line who’d come back, the one who you destroyed and also one with a hell hound?”

Spike was quiet momentarily. “My sire, Drusilla, she’s not right in the head.”

“But you didn’t kill her?”

He gulped and looked away, his hand clutching the arm of the sofa, “No. Drusilla…she’s childlike in so many ways, she was tortured by Angelus, my grandsire, he drove her to the brink of madness, she was pure and he had to have her, he killed her entire family. I…I loved her once and Angelus orchestrated my demise, he hoped I’d dust myself, his jealousy that she’d sired me almost led me to it.” His head was in his hands and he rubbed his face before looking up at Buffy sadly and then back to Joyce. “He came back here twenty years ago and the short story is the Others took him, he’s still here and I think he’s now the driving force within them, he wants me to suffer as he has and he’ll stop at nothing to end me.”

Joyce considered what Spike had said, “So are you telling me you don’t want Drusilla to die, dust, whatever you call it?”

The group listened with baited breath for his answer, none speaking a word.

“I’ll do anything for Buffy, she’s my sun, moon and stars, I’m saying we lead Drusilla here as bait, we make Angelus choose between her or us. Once we have the Other in our sights we hit ‘em with everythin’ we have. It’s not much of a plan but it’s all we have.”

Grace stepped forward, “Spike, the women of this family have gifts far greater than can be anticipated. Come my daughter, my granddaughter, I will show you what you are capable of. Spike, we’ll decide how to proceed once we know what weapons we have.”

Spike nodded as they left. 

Buffy watched Joyce and Grace head upstairs and she pulled Spike to the hallway by the arm, “I have some gifts for you.” She whispered, placing a kiss on his cheek, craning her neck up to see if she’d been missed by the elder women.

Spike considered the bags she pointed to, pulling out the boots and grinning the widest of grins, “Pet, you shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted to, I wanted you to have something for yourself, you haven’t had a gift in decades.”

“You’re wrong, sweetheart,” He sighed, his eyes on hers, watching her lashes flutter as he reached out and caressed her cheek before cupping her chin, “The biggest gift I’ve ever been given is you.” He smashed his lips onto hers, easing her back against the wall and pulling her body flush against his. 

Joyce turned at the top of the staircase and shook her head with a chuckle, “Oh, to be young and in love, I remember that feeling.”  

Grace nodded as she watched the scene below, “Good looking, isn’t he?”

Both grinned before Joyce called out, “Put that man down and get up here, Buffy Summers.”   
….

“I can’t!” Buffy huffed, stomping up and down the corridor in the west wing, “It won’t come!”

“Buffy, darling, you’re not allowing it in, you must feel the power within you, allow it to flow from within you and then you’ll be able to move the glass.” Grace said gently.

“Mom could do it! Why could my mom do it? I’ve never denied the existence of the supernatural, I’ve only ever blocked them out when they became too much! Mom denied their existence totally.”

Joyce moved forward and clutched Buffy’s shoulders. “It happens for me because I’m doing it for love, to keep you safe, I would never forgive myself if I didn’t do everything I could to help. If something happened to you, I couldn’t bear it.” She hugged Buffy close. “Please, baby, just do it for me, do it out of love for Spike, you can find it, it’s there deep inside you, you only have to let go.”

Buffy closed her eyes and cleared her mind of everything apart from Spike, willing herself to concentrate. In her mind, his blue eyes sparkled as she made him laugh, this memory morphed into his look of awe when they first kissed, his tender touch, his need, the feel of his body against her, oh, god. Lava spilled into her gut, he’d be gone if she couldn’t find the strength to make this work. Grace had said that it would take all the women’s fortitude combined to beat the other back and her Spike might die if she couldn’t do this. She would do this!

Anger transformed into sheer determination and she felt her body begin to tremble, power flooding from her fingertips and pooling in her breast, her heart galloping so fast she felt a buzzing in her head before she blacked out. 

The next thing she knew was her mother helping her to a chair and stroking her head. “Baby, that was wonderful.”

“Huh?” Buffy said, still dazed from whatever had happened, she had no idea.

Grace moved out of her line of sight and Buffy saw the glass still on the side table, she looked up at Grace, tears welling in her eyes, she’d failed.

“You didn’t hit the glass, darling,” Grace stated, “But I’m afraid that painting of Oliver Cromwell has come off less lightly.” She said as she pointed at what was left of the picture.

Buffy looked up, there was barely any of the canvas left, only burning pieces around a blackened frame. The wooden panel behind the painting had been blown to smithereens. “W-what happened? How did I do that?”

“Oh, Buffy, you were amazing!” Joyce gushed, hugging her daughter, “A bright golden light poured from your chest, when I tried there was barely a flash!”

“With a little more practice, you will be a force to be reckoned with my dearest granddaughter, you have a power within you even I don’t possess,” Grace said reverently, “Now, my girls, let’s get back to work.”   
…

The vampire formally known as John Moorland listened to Drusilla’s rambling. She continued to sing to herself, often crying out for her daddy and lamenting the death of Darla, his own sire. He deplored Darla’s death as, even though he’d known her for only moments before his death, he gathered she was much less crazy than the one he’d been forced to spend his afterlife with. She wouldn’t allow him to leave their room, going out alone to hunt at night and returning with a fresh kill. She took the hound along on these trips and he always returned with blood smeared over his features, urging John to eat his meal, which, to be honest, didn’t take much persuasion. 

“Diablo kills with such precision,” She suddenly spoke, sounding somewhat less insane than usual, “Just as you shall, having been sired by an old one such as my Grand mama.”

John was only half listening as he devoured a person he assumed to be homeless by their stench, artlessly spitting a lump of throat onto the floor as he lapped at the waterfall of blood flooding from the wound. He vaguely wondered what his dog killed, did a vampire dog kill his own kind? Or was he existing on human blood too?

“Tsk, Daddy would be so upset at your manners, my pretty uncle, I shall take you hunting tomorrow and you shall learn propriety, you shall learn what it is to exist in this world. Others will not have the opportunities you shall, you are brother to my sire, now head of our line and your brother needs to be saved from the house, he is there, I feel him. You must learn to heed your destiny.”

John spat another lump of skin to the ground, and the dead man’s head lolled to one side, barely connected to his spine, he let the body fall to the floor and watched as the hound dragged the corpse to the corner, placing it atop several other ravaged bodies. The once cream coloured carpet of the room was now a dingy burgundy and, now he had fed, John had more questions but was disturbed by a loud knock on the door.

“Miss Kramer, we’ve had complaints about the noise and smell coming from this room, are you going to open up or am I to call the police?” The voice of the hotel manager sounded, muffled from the other side of the door as he banged on it again.

“My sweet lamb, please answer the door and usher our guest inside, his heart is so appealing I shall allow him to be your first, take care not to soil his outfit, you’ll need it. We shall take tea afterwards with Miss Edith, she is ever so parched.”

John opened the door, its breeze blowing a rush of air inside the room, tendrils of air clutching at the curtains and pulling them aside. Drusilla shrieked as her face was burned by the sun and John slammed it quickly behind him, barely having time to register that daylight was his biggest adversary but realising at that moment his only worthwhile companion in his afterlife was nearly combusted.   
…

The police were called by the other residents as they heard a blood curdling scream and then total silence. 

By the time the authorities arrived and battered the door down with a battering ram, there was no sign of life within. 

The first officer on the scene saw the window, wide open, the bedding missing and the naked, dead manager’s eyes staring vacantly at them from the peak of a small mountain of bodies beside a table set for tea.

The stench was so strong he vomited on the carpet.   
….

“I need to go back to my church to check on the parishioners while it’s still daylight, the other vampire is still on the loose with that blithering’ dog and I need to warn people to stay in their homes past dark.” Father Michael gathered his things and headed to the door.

Spike and Kyle were pouring over the book Buffy and the Father had borrowed from the witch and barely spoke as he left and even the endless pots of coffee supplied by Piper were barely keeping their eyes open.

Sometime later he arrived back in town to see the police surrounding the local hotel, yellow tape around the street and lots of blue lights flashing in the twilight. A band of locals surrounded the scene, asking for information but none seeming to get anywhere.

“Molly?” Father Michael rushed over as he saw one of his parishioners sobbing by the side of the road, her head in her hands, “Molly, what’s happened here?”

“Oh, father, thank the lord you’re here. My brother, Pete, he’s been missing for days, someone said there’s been murders in’t hotel. Oh, god, what if ‘e’s one o’ them?”

“Molly, I’ll find out, I’ll speak to them.” He clutched her hands before heading over, demanding to speak to the officer in charge.

“I’m sorry Father, I don’t have time,” A detective he managed to commandeer said apologetically, “All I can tell you is this; it isn’t good, my specialist unit has been drafted here from Manchester and there are at least a dozen dead. My advice is to get these people to go home and lock their doors if you can. This is confidential, mind, there’s a serial killer on the loose the like of we’ve never seen. Here’s my card, let me know if you hear anything and get these people away from here.”

Father Michael wondered how much more he could take, he was dog tired and he had to get back to the house as soon as possible with the supplies of holy water, wooden spikes and crosses Spike had told them they’d need to keep the house safe. He rubbed the stubble on his chin and nodded to the pale detective. If this officer was spooked, it must be bad.

Looking up, he saw the town’s Mayor glance at him from over the crowd and swiftly made his way over, ushering him aside to speak privately. “Martin, we have to get these people out of here, you’re the only one who has the power to impose a curfew, they’ll listen to you.”

The Mayor looked stricken, “H-how could something like this happen in our town? I can’t make these people go home, I don’t have that derestriction.”

“Make them believe you have, before more die.” The Father said sternly.

“I-I can’t speak to them, I-I think my daughter may be one of the dead, s-she’s been missing for days.”

“I will pray for her safety, but we must be certain she is before we make assumptions, you know how kids can be? In the meantime, someone else’s daughter could be murdered if we don’t do anything, surely you can’t have that on your conscience?”

The terrified Mayor looked into his eyes, smoothing the lapels of his smart suit anxiously, “No, Father, we mustn’t let that happen. I’ll do it.” He headed for the steps of the towns war memorial and shouted for quiet, clapping his hands to garner the townsfolks attention. 

Twilight had fallen and everyone in the vicinity had become silent, staring at the Mayor. “I want everyone to go home and lock your doors, no-one is to leave their properties before daylight, not even to walk their dog. I’m not at liberty to tell you what has occurred here but the police are still making enquiries and the local news will provide updates.” 

The crowd began to babble and ask questions and the Mayor held his hands out, settling them down. “It is not for me to make you do this, I do not have the power, but this is my suggestion, do not leave your homes until you are told it’s safe to do so. The church will be sanctuary for anyone who finds themselves without a roof over their heads tonight, Father Michael will make you welcome. That is all for now, please go home immediately.”

People began to hurry away and the Father followed a few who’d headed towards the church. He wasn’t going to be able to help those down at Devil’s Reach tonight but in the scheme of things his parishioners and those who were vulnerable were his priority.

Out of the corner of his eye the Father thought he caught a set of glittering eyes in an alley near the church, he looked again and they were gone and he wondered if he might be hallucinating from lack of sleep. He felt the sleeve of his cassock tugged on by Sarah, a member of the women’s institute and he squeezed his eyes tight, shaking off the feeling of dread. 

“They’ll need feeding.” The elderly lady said.

“Yes, yes they will.” Father Michael shuddered, staring back into the darkness.    
….

Seventeen-year-old Mary Roberts was in the town square when the announcement was made but knew it made little difference to her. Her boyfriend would expect her to go out anyway, to earn her keep. He needed his meth and she was his meal ticket to that. Slightly buzzed on some weed she’d found lying about the house, she shivered on the street corner near the cemetery, her short skirt and high heels barely covering her body, her low-cut top shielded by a short pink, grubby jacket and her belly   
rumbling painfully. Mary couldn’t remember when she last ate but it could’ve been at least a day ago. 

The girl scratched at her grimy skin, not even sure when she’d last had a bath, the water had been turned off for ages and the bill hadn’t been paid in months. She glanced at the church, the light looking so welcoming in the foggy night and threw the last of her spliff to the ground, grinding it under her scuffed heel. Men came from other villages to use her services, not wanting to be caught in their home towns and this was why her guy had sent her out that night. He’d been so wasted on the proceeds from selling her only precious possession – her gold crucifix - when she got home earlier she could only yelp as he crushed her against the wall and spat in her face as he told her she would be working that night and how he didn’t give a shit about what was happening in the town. 

Once, she’d attended church every Sunday, along with her mother. She’d died a few years back and their house had been repossessed, that was when she’d become homeless and fallen in with her current bloke. He kept a roof over her head, generally a few bruises on her body and her under his thumb, forcing her to go on the game.

A waft of baking bread came from the church and she turned to sniff the air, it was almost as good as eating in her book, every day she smelled something tantalizing in town while she wandered and left her guy comatose. It was always better to be out of the place as she might come across some leftover food or one of those shops who offered samples, she didn’t think she needed much but she wasn’t foolish enough to recognise she was as thin as a bird.

The door to the church opened and Father Michael appeared in the door, a glow surrounding him. He’d always been so kind and stopped to talk with her whenever he saw her, encouraging her to come to church, even though he knew who she was and what she did now. She smiled at him, pulling her jacket tighter.

“Run!” She heard him shout out, her smile turning to a look of disbelief, “For God’s sake, run!”

Confused for a moment she turned to look behind her and saw a man with amber eyes in the distance, racing at speed down the street towards her. Mary’s heel caught in the cobbled paving and fell sideways on her shoe, clutching at the wrought iron gate beside her. She wriggled her foot, more concerned about breaking the heel on the only pair of shoes she owned and barely registering the fear she should’ve felt as the Father’s feet pounded over the grass, jumping over headstones as he tried to reach her. 

“Mary Roberts!” The priest roared, “Leave that bloody shoe and get in here, right now!” He called, from yards away.

The man was gaining on her and she shook the gates, unable to get a handle on the old-fashioned gate lock, she rattled on it desperately, “It won’t open!” She screamed, “Help me! Who is that? Oh, Lord help me!” 

She felt it, whatever it was wasn’t human and it was behind her, several feet away, the stench of its bloody breath floating on the breeze. Mary froze to the spot, unable to move, goosepimples flowing over her neck.

A chilling voice rang out in the vicinity, “Take her, you may have her for your own as I took my William, I see tiny baby fishes floating around her, she is to be ours.” It was followed swiftly by a barking whine which echoed over the street.

There was nothing else to do, she gave up struggling with the lock on the gate, her arms dropping to her sides and she waited for it to happen. She thought her life was nothing and perhaps it was better this way.

She heard a snarl at the nape of her neck and felt hands grasp her arms, it would be over and perhaps that’s what she wanted anyway...  
…

Father Michael reached the gate as the vampire did, glad he’d had the foresight to keep the large wooden cross with him.

The people within the church had helped Sarah cook and make up beds with whatever they could find. He’d spent the whole night whittling any wood he could come across, breaking down chairs and slugging back communion wine to settle his nerves. Late in the evening, something had told Michael that he needed to check the grounds, to make sure nothing bad was loitering and to keep people safe inside. 

It was almost midnight when he opened the front door and saw Mary on the street. Lord, that girl was so lucky to be alive. She stood in town, night after night, picking up punters and going off to god knows where in people’s cars. This wasn’t one of her usual haunts and he hoped she’d come there tonight for safety. He’d baptised her right here in this church, and remembered her as one of his own flock, which she would always be if she would just embrace the lord again. Even her own mother was buried here.

He saw them in the distance and his blood had run cold, those amber eyes glittering in the dark and he began to run, stumbling over the dead in the hope he could save the living, his chest almost giving out as he ran. He reached the gates as they did and saw the vampire who was once John Moorland behind Mary, his worst nightmare had come true.

With no time to think, he grasped hold of the latch on the gate, opening the difficult lock and fleetingly telling himself he would get it fixed if god only let her live. He thrust his wooden cross between the bars and onto the vampire’s face, pulling the gate open and heaving the girl through, looking in astonishment as the vampire’s face at the end of his arm began to burn and sizzle.

He threw Mary to one side and slammed the gate.

“This is consecrated ground and you are the devil!” He shrieked, losing his footing and falling back onto his ass before hitting his head on a gravestone, stars flittering over his vision as he battled to stay conscious. He watched as the vampire dropped to his knees, howling as it clutched at its face.

Mary’s scream echoed throughout the churchyard and he heard a voice he knew, it was Drusilla’s, her eyes on Mary’s, he felt the girl hide her head in the nape of his neck. Nonsensically she sang out, “Here comes a candle to light you to bed, and here comes a chopper to chop off your head.” 

She hissed and undulated her claws at him before caressing the hound and whispering into the other vampire’s ear before drifting away. 

Neither he or the hound had taken their eyes off him and he had a feeling this wasn’t the last he would see of them.    
 


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hold onto your seats as things begin to escalate!  
> Thanks so much to the awesome OffYourBird for picking up as beta on this story.

Present day

Glinda Hannagan left the shop, locking it up following the mayor’s curfew. She felt jittery, like the feelings she’d once embraced to help her with her spellbinding were raw and on edge, flickering with power, like metal grating on spark plugs. It had been years since she’d practiced, but since Father Michael had visited, she’d been reminded of what was down in the valley and had felt vulnerable with her powers not being up to par.

Amassing some courage, she made her way to the church to speak to the priest. It was six-thirty p.m. and already dark due to winter drawing in. 

Hearing hooves on the cobbled street behind her, she stopped and stared as an old fashioned gypsy caravan drove past, its elderly inhabitant laying a soft stroke upon the black shire horses’ backs as it disappeared into the darkness. Could this be the one who Lizzie had visited on the moor all those years ago? They’d turned her away but, surely, if they understood how dire the circumstances were now and what was at stake down at Devil’s Reach, they would help? She could try to explain, enlist their help. The goddess knew she had stood by for too long without doing anything; she could only try.

“Please stop!” She called into the darkness, sighing with relief as the swinging lantern on the back showed the caravan slowing to a stop.

Cold tentacles of fog grasped at her ankles as she approached and the lantern flickered, a moth darting inside the heated glass, burning to death on its candle, its wings flapping wildly until it was no more and the light was snuffed out.

A feeling of dread overtook Glinda as she reached the front of the wagon. The boots of the person who sat up front didn’t seem like those of the travellers she’d seen in the past and the silhouette seemed different somehow, like this wasn’t the person she saw a moment ago. 

In the distance the door to the church opened and the priest stepped outside into the fog, surveying the outside of the church. 

She lifted her hand to wave and saw a look of horror flash over his features, just as she felt a cold hand land on her shoulder. 

“Angels are talking inside my head, naughty little witchy poo. Do you know what they say?”

Glinda could barely move, she didn’t want to turn and face the creature of the night who had her within its reach, she was terrified. A growl came from before her as a wild dog with glowing rubies for eyes and razor-sharp fangs edged its way closer.

“No, no, please!” She begged, urine seeping down her leg.

“They tell me you’ve been a bad little sorceress, not helping my William and for that you will pay! Diablo, its dinner time!”   
….

Father Michael shrieked out into the night, “Noooo!”

He sank to his knees in defeat on the cobbles as the caravan raced off into the night, his eyes wide and unblinking at the horrifying scene he’d witnessed as the woman was abducted.

He fell forward, placing his hands on the cold stone, feeling a thick and hot substance. Hands covered in blood and his body taught with righteous anger, he stood and yelled sobbingly up at the sky, “Why me? How the fuck could you let this happen, Lord? What do you want from me?”

When the parishioners from within the church reached him, he was rocking and banging the back of his head against the stone wall surrounding the church.

“Why me?” He uttered over and over until eventually police vehicles arrived and he was led back inside the church.   
……………………………………

**The following evening - The House**

That day had almost become calm for a time. Once Buffy and Joyce finished their training, they all continued to pour over the books from the secret room for anything which might help. Piper made a roast dinner, including roast beef and Yorkshire puddings, and everyone dug in as though they were starved. Everyone was too exhausted to notice Father Michael hadn’t returned, and they planned on turning in early, since nothing of a supernatural nature had happened since Darla and Dru had last entered the house.

“You get to bed, love,” Spike said, hugging Buffy as she yawned and gave a small shudder, “I’ll lock up an’ check all is secure.

Kyle said he’d take the first watch. You should see him, all weapon’d up an’ white as a soddin’ sheet.” Spike chuckled. Much as he wanted to be the one who protected everyone, he knew he needed some sleep to get back on top form. The lad had been asleep all afternoon on the sofa so he was feeling slightly more human than most. 

“I don’t want to sleep without you,” Buffy protested.

“I’ll be there soon. Either that or you can go in with your mum, Grace is watchin’ over her tonight an’ Piper won’t leave Kyle, so she’s crashed out in the lounge.”

Buffy blushed and pouted and he reached to run his thumb over her plump lower lip, “Go on up an’ have a nice hot bath, sweet cheeks, it’ll make you feel better.”

“I don’t know, Spike, what about what happened last time? If you hadn’t saved me…”

“Seems different tonight, pet, the atmosphere feels purer, less tainted with evil. Make the most of it, I doubt it’ll last.”

Spike went about his business, checking the wooden slats over the windows were secure, that the front door was triple locked and Kyle was ready.

“So, you know what to do, mate?” Spike asked as Kyle sat in a chair next to the fire with an array of weapons laid out on an occasional table before him, a stake, the iron poker from the fire, a flare gun (where in the hell had he got a flare gun from, Spike wondered), two torches, a large wooden cross and some holy water. 

“Happen’ you’ve told me enough times, any boggart who wants to bray on me would ‘ave to be a daft wazzock,” Kyle said haughtily. 

“Need a bloody translation book in this house, I do,” Spike sighed, clapping him on the shoulder before heading off to bed.   
….

Buffy couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so relaxed, the strain of everything which was going on around her had given her knots upon knots in her shoulders and what she really wanted was a massage from Spike, Oh, yeah, his hands were made for it; he could start at her shoulders and then his hands would brush over her breasts, then to her thighs, and spread her legs…

There was a booming bang on the door which saw Buffy come back to her senses and slip as she tried to sit her face submerged under the water. She came up coughing and spluttering. 

“You fallen asleep in there, pet?”

“No, I’m not sleeping, there’s no sleeping here,” she called, a shiver running through her. She was sort of glad he hadn’t caught her with her fingers caressing the bud between her legs, but then something else inside her wanted him to, naughty Buffy.

She dried up and headed out of the bathroom minutes later wrapped in a towel and ran through the cold upper floor to her room, only to find a snoring vampire laid out like a starfish on her bed.

Disappointment flooded through her. It looked like tonight really was going to be for sleeping. She changed into her pyjamas and eased herself in beside her man. Somehow, horniness aside, she didn’t mind. She would just be happy to lay beside him for all the days of her life.   
….

Spike woke just before dawn, easing himself from the bed and realizing he hadn’t gone to take over from Kyle.

The house was still and he found Kyle fast asleep in the chair next to the fire, which had died down to a few whitened and flickering embers. 

He had a strange feeling, like someone familiar had been near, an echo from the past, and shuddered like someone had walked over his grave.

“I left him to sleep, he was awake up until a few hours since, I stayed awake just in case,” Piper said, yawning and passing Spike a cup of tea. “There’s some news. I’ve been outside to check all was well with’t house an’ this note was pinned to the door.” She handed him a note.

“ _I have heard tell in the village that you have been waiting on me. I will allow you to visit at sundown in the next valley and be aware I will expect payment for my services.”_

It had been written in the old-fashioned but vaguely familiar scrawl of someone elderly, born at least in the earlier part of the century. 

The only assumption either he or Piper could come to was that the note had been written by the travellers who frequented these parts at this time of year. 

Spike bit his lip and headed up to wake the Summers women with the news.   
….

All sat on Joyce’s bed with a cup of tea and mulled over what the note meant.

“It gives me a sense of foreboding, my darlings, I’m not sure about this,” Grace said, pacing and biting her lip.

“Surely it’s worth a try, Grandma? We won’t know if they can help us if we don’t ask.”

“Yes but, Buffy dearest, you’ll be exposed to the elements and away from this house after sundown. Just the thought vexes me,” Grace began. “Then there’s the fact Spike cannot escort you or even leave the house if anything happens. With the Father gone, we only have young Kyle to escort you. He’s eager but no match for that hell spawn outside on the moor, and we have no idea where the vampire went or whether she still lingers. You saw how angry she was when she left.”

“I tried calling the church several times last night, mom, I couldn’t get through the Father. One of the parishioners said there had been an incident in town and that the townsfolk were under curfew. I have a bad feeling about this,” Joyce said, taking a sip of tea.

“I wanted to see if there was owt on the news but I can’t seem to get any channels on the TV, the picture is just fuzzy,” Piper interjected. 

“So, what? We’ll just here like sittin’ ducks cause we’re afraid? How long before the Others are up to their old tricks again? How long before Dru and her poochy friend find a way into the house? Now isn’t the time to rest on our laurels, now is the time for action. Buffy can handle it if her mum goes along. Kyle’s a good fighter an’ I know he won’t let anything happen to them.” Spike felt like he was spinning a lie. He wasn’t sure whether the women could manage to fight off any nasty's without him but there was no way they were going to create a siege situation, locking out one evil, only to be trapped inside with another. He had to hope the Summers women’s skills were enough to protect them all.

“OK,” Grace conceded, “I suggest we use today to train and then Buffy, Joyce, and Kyle will leave before last light to walk to the next valley.”   
….

The day passed excruciatingly slowly for Buffy. She spent her time honing her skills and taking some self-defence lessons from Spike in the attic, which ended in mucho snogging and rolling around on the floor giggling. She had learned how to block punches, to go for the heart on a vampire using a blunt stake, and a few other moves which would have to be enough for now.   
They were cuddling on some old rugs, dozing after the exercise and Buffy sneezed from the dust, bringing them both back to reality.

Spike rose and peeked behind the makeshift curtains they’d used to block out the sun. “As I thought, love, it’s nearly time for you to leave.” He turned and stared at her silently for a moment before making his way over to her to draw her into a hug.

“Don’t do anything stupid, sweetheart, there’s no need to be a hero. If you find yourself in danger, just run, don’t stand an’ fight unless you must. I need you home safe. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen to me, Spike, I just need to go visit the gypsies and get them on our side, I’m sure I can.”

Spike hugged her tightly. He wasn’t so sure. If Lizzie hadn’t been able to get them on her side then he wasn’t sure Buffy could. Both were sweet and engaging, this wasn’t likely enough to break through the barrier of hate the travelling community held for vampires. He didn’t blame them. Why would you help a predator who you believed might drain you of blood as soon as look at you?

….

Father Michael spent his day prostrate at the altar of the church, deep in prayer. He couldn’t work out why the lord would allow such atrocities to happen in his town. He knew he was being tested, but however hard he attempted to contact the lord through prayer, he found he was left bereft of answers.

Church parishioners had frequented the church all day, looking for salvation, support, and the wise and – usually – unwavering words of wisdom from the cleric. He was able to offer them none, but still they waited.

The low light of dust filtered through the arched, stained glass window above the alter, its beautiful panes depicting Jesus, with his disciples at his feet and his arms spread wide as if welcoming all to him. Above his head glowed a golden cross.

Father Michael sat back on his haunches as he felt the warm light filter from above and warm his shivering body. He opened his eyes for the first time in hours, his hands clasped together and almost numb. Before him on the wooden floor lay a golden cross, beamed from above, its dazzling luminosity like a beacon of hope. He felt its strength fill him up and knew he’d been given the sign he’d been waiting for.

Michael got to his feet and yelled, startling the worried people in the pews behind him.

“Evil shall not prevail! For surely o’ Lord, you bless the righteous: you surround them with your favour as with a shield!” He bellowed, gathering up his cassock and running to gather his things.

“Stay inside, do not leave this place after dark. I have work to do and you must all pray for our safety.” 

He slammed the doors to the church behind him as he raced for his car. He had work to do. This evil must be ended, once and for all.   
….

At sundown, Joyce and Buffy followed Kyle through the thick brambles and over the hill into the next valley. As the sun dipped below the clouds, the chill in the air began to nip at their extremities, their breath rising in the cool air as a lowland fog hovered at ankle height. 

“There it is,” Kyle said, pointing as they began their decent into the valley. 

A solitary caravan sat near a stream, smoke billowing from the fire which flickered gaily, a lidded cauldron cooking what smelled like meat or stew. At any other time, it may have looked picturesque, but all three were on their guard.

There was no sign of anyone thereabouts and Kyle stopped them, his arm holding them back protectively. “This is givin’ me the willies, where are the people?”

“Perhaps they’re inside?” Buffy offered.

“I don’t see anything strange,” Joyce said, peering into the distance.

“Still, it’s better if you keep your wits about you,” he reminded them before carrying on carefully down the hillside, followed by the women.

They drew closer and saw the lights were on inside the ornate caravan, which was nestled on the hillside, and its door closed.

Buffy raised her hand and knocked firmly. 

There was no answer.

She tried again, knocking harder this time and more rapidly. “Hello? Is anybody home?”

“There’s no-one here, I can sense it,” Joyce said. “Why would they ask us to come here if they weren’t home?”

Kyle took out his torch and moved to look around the back of the vehicle. There was no sign of its horse. Of course! That was what had seemed odd to him from the first. Then he saw a trail of dark blood over the long grass and dripping from the heather.

Following its path with his flashlight, he moved closer to the fire and shone it on the closed lid of the pot, noticing burgundy coloured liquid burned to the side of the cauldron. “Err, Buffy?”

She sensed the fear in his voice and moved towards the fire, picking up a dirty cloth and looking at Kyle apprehensively as she lifted the lid.

Stifling a scream, she slammed the lid back down, tripping and falling back onto her butt.

“What is it, baby?” Joyce shrieked, running to her daughter.

“Oh, god!” Buffy cried, “Oh, my god!”

Kyle went to lift the lid.

“Don’t!” Buffy yelped. “Please, don’t! I-its, oh, god, its Mrs. Hanngan's head!” She didn’t tell them that the head was floating in a soup of carrots and turnips, the skin bloated as it cooked.

Kyle ran to pull at the women. “It’s a ploy to get us away from the house! We have to go, we have to go, right now!”

A howl came in the faraway distance and they all began to run.   
 


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're still with me as things are starting to hot up!

**Chapter 31 - Ending**

Stifling a scream, she slammed the lid back down, tripping and falling back onto her butt.

"What is it, baby?" Joyce shrieked, running to her daughter.

"Oh, god!" Buffy cried, "Oh, my god!"�

Kyle went to lift the lid.

"Don't!" Buffy yelped. "Please, don't! I-its, oh, god, its Mrs. Hanngan's head!"� She didn't tell them that the head was floating in a soup of carrots and turnips, the skin bloated as it cooked.

Kyle ran to pull at the women. "It's a ploy to get us away from the house! We have to go, we have to go, right now!"�

A howl came in the faraway distance and they all began to run.

\---xxx---

**Chapter 32**

Drusilla and the hound stood before the front door of the house. They knew at least two of the women and one man had left to follow the note she’d left, and Diablo had returned but minutes ago from the valley, letting out a howl in the distance so she knew he was coming. He’d left the fledge at the top of the valley and her new child waited with instructions to kill the three as they headed back towards the house.

There was no way to rescind her invitation if the residents of the house were gone. On the night of Darla’s dusting she had entered the foyer of the house along with Diablo, unchallenged, apart from the stupid boy hailing a meat cleaver. Dru wasn’t a great thinker (she usually left that to Darla or her daddy) but somehow the vampires of her line still had access to the house that had belonged to the Master. 

Bored with waiting, she sang to herself, _Hey diddle diddle, The cat did a piddle, the cow began to run. The demon dog laughed to see such fun and then slaughtered them both in the sun._   
   
Delighted with her ditty, she danced closer, repeating the tune to herself as she swayed. She could feel William inside, along with the barest hint of her own sire, and the need to kill them all to get to Angelus was so strong it vibrated through her. Daddy would make things right, he would take her away and care for her like he always had. Thinking for herself and caring for a childe was becoming tiresome.   
…..

Spike and Grace poured over the books again and Spike threw one across the kitchen in frustration, startling Piper.

“Pip, I’m sorry, pet, this is just so bloody annoying! Why would she leave this for me when there’s nothin’ but crap here!” 

Piper picked up the book gingerly, laying it open next to the stove as she made hot chocolate. She was terrified of being left alone with Spike and Grace; in all of her life she’d never thought she’d be spending an evening researching with a vampire and a ghost, let alone while her boyfriend went off to the other side of the moor to meet with some gypsies who might be able to free the vampire from the house. Realistically, she didn’t think it was the best idea to let any monsters free, but she trusted Buffy and Joyce and hoped they knew what they were doing. 

Kyle seemed to be on a crusade to save everyone and she was afraid for him, especially since he didn’t have the backup of the priest. Things in the house were quiet at the moment, but she was busting for a pee and afraid to go to the loo alone. What if the others managed to break out of the spell Grace had cast on them and wreaked havoc on the house while she was in the bathroom? It didn’t care thinking about.

She danced on her toes, her bladder insistent. Then she noticed something in the book as she placed two hot chocolates on the counter.

“Did anyone check this book?” she asked, walking around to the kitchen table and placing Spike’s drink as close to him as she dared. “It’s only, it says something about ‘the three’ and has some pictures of Saint Michael the Archangel.” 

Spike rose quickly and grabbed the book. Piper flinched, her drink slopping over the side as she went to carry it to the table.

“Pet, there’s no need to be afraid of me, I know I’m not your common or garden Yorkshireman, but I would never hurt you.” He placed a cool hand on hers and moved aside to let her sit. “Anyway, you might just be my favourite person right now, no-one else has found a bloody thing in these dusty old books.” 

He smiled, and she felt slightly more relaxed.

“Now, love, show me what you found.”   
…….

“Buffy, my ankle, I can’t run any further.” Joyce begged, limping on her injured leg. 

“Kyle, can you carry her?” Buffy said breathlessly, her eyes on the lights of the house in the distance.

Kyle dipped down in front of Joyce, “’op on Mrs. S.”

“I can’t get on your back, Kyle, how can you carry me the rest of the way?”

“Joyce, I’m sturdier than I look, there’s nowt you’ll do to hurt me.”

“Come on mom! We haven’t much time, Spike and Piper are in danger, if Dru can do that to poor Mrs. Hannagan, then what might she do to Piper?”

Kyle blanched and urged Joyce onto his back with a stern look, hardly waiting for her to get comfortable before he began running, Joyce shrieking as she clung on for dear life.   
…….

Piper’s urge to pee overtook rational thought and she rose and headed out of the room. Neither Spike nor Grace paid her any attention as they poured over the book and she wandered off into the well-lit house to find the bathroom on the first floor. It was a bright, moonlit night and she tried not to panic as she passed the stained-glass window at the top of the stairs. Reaching the door to the bathroom, she went inside quickly and left the door ajar. No-one would hear her up here and she hated the feeling of being shut in; this place wasn’t safe, not to wander alone in.

She finished her business and flushed the lavatory. There was an old-fashioned chain which hung from a cistern above the bowl and it took a few tugs to work. The pipes protested and rattled as she made her way to the door, but then the banging became louder and the lavatory began to pop, a plume of steam rising from inside as she stared at it with horror. It began to bubble, and the water began to rise, reaching the lid and pouring over the rim, she stood on tip toes to escape the flow, clutching the basin and hopping up to avoid the water.

Then it slowed, and she uttered a sigh of relief. It must’ve just been a blockage, she thought and stepped back to the floor. She made the mistake of turning her back to grasp some towels for the clean-up and the toilet bowl erupted behind her, spewing green slime all over the bathroom. She screamed and stood back as the gunge cascaded over her.   
…

“Grace, I’m tellin’ you, the three are you, Joyce and Buffy!”

“There’s nothing to say anything about witches here. Tt could mean the father, son and holy ghost!” Grace replied, “St Michael is right next to them on the page!”

There was a dreadful shriek from upstairs and both realized Piper hadn’t returned.

“Jesus! Where did the little girl go?” Spike yelled, running at speed towards the screams.”

“Oh, lord, Spike where is she?” Grace followed, swirling behind him, darting this way and that. 

“Help me! Argggh! Get away from me you chuffin’ boggart! No, no, no!” Piper screamed.

Spike slammed into the door, but it wouldn’t open, “Piper, open the door!” He tried several more time to barge in through the door before having an idea and swinging on the head jamb of the doorframe and ploughing through the door with his feet. The door gave and slammed open.

Piper was lying in the foetal position on the floor covered in gloop and Spike sank to his knees, whipped off his tee and wiped her head and eyes clean as best he could. “Pip, are you alright? Love, talk to me,” he demanded, giving her a shake. She thrashed hysterically. “I want my mum.” 

Spike lifted her into his arms, holding her close and murmuring soothing words. His first thought to take her to the nursery. If this was the Others, then they needed to be in the safe zone. 

Grace peered into the toilet bowl and looked back at Spike, whispering low, in a way inaudible to humans. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, there are bones down here. Human bones but not of adults.” She added gravely, “These are bones of infants.”

Spike’s eyes flashed amber and returned swiftly to cerulean. “So, they’re back then? The Others.”

Grace gave him a somber look before glancing back to Piper. She nodded to Spike but went on to say, “Of course not, Spike, it’s probably just an old septic tank. They do this sometimes.” She lifted her forefinger to her lips.

He got the message. The poor girl didn’t do well in situations like this and she shouldn’t be here. It was too late to take her home and he wondered whether she’d be any safer there anyway. 

“Will you sit with her?” Spike said as he laid the girl into Buffy’s bed and did his best to clean her face with a damp cloth. “I need to wait for Buffy and the others to come back.”

“Of course. Tommy and I will watch over her,” she said as the boy revealed himself at her side and climbed onto her lap. 

Spike left Grace in the rocking chair and Piper asleep. It had all been too much for the girl.   
…

As Buffy, Kyle, and Joyce headed down into the valley, they saw the vampiress and her canine cohort standing right outside the house.

Buffy was so intent on getting to Spike and Piper, that she wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings, and by then the vampire was on her. He tripped her and snarled as he tried to gain access to her neck, flipping Buffy onto her back, holding her arms behind her head, pinning her down as he roared with glee at his captured prey.

Luckily, one of them was alert and Kyle stumbled in his race to lower Joyce to the ground, righting himself before grabbing his meat cleaver from the waistband of his jeans and planting the cleaver into the vampire’s shoulder.

The vampire roared and turned to attack Kyle, launching himself at him, causing the two to begin rolling down the hill at speed through the brambles and heather. 

Buffy ran behind them, watching each fight for dominance as they fell. They slowed, and Buffy took her opportunity. She ran forth and kicked the vamp as hard as she could in the stomach, forcing him back with a yelp as she kicked him again in the chin.

Kyle lay dazed in the heather and Buffy spied his cleaver in his hand. Quickly, she snatched it and sliced into the vamp’s throat, causing him to fall to the ground, but in seconds he was back up again, and she swung another hard shot at his throat before kicking his chest and pushing him back. “Why. Wont. You. Die!!!” she screamed, slashing again and hacking at his neck, all magical power she possessed - and could use - forgotten as she fought for their lives.    
…….

Spike stood at the top of the stairs, the moon shining from behind him through the stained-glass window and he lifted his nose, spreading his arms wide, attempting to take in any tremors, any rumbles from the undead or changes in the atmosphere of the house. 

Glancing up suddenly, he dropped into game face. Dru was here, yards away from the house and Buffy was out there. “Fuck!” he hissed, scrabbling down the steps, rushing to the door. Putting his hand onto the door knob, he found himself sent flying back several feet.

“Buffy! Buffy don’t talk to her! She’ll bloody kill you!” He banged hard on the glass, trying his hardest to get their attention.   
Nobody looked his way and he stood in terror as he watched the scene unfold, unable to do a thing about it.   
……

Buffy’s next swing cut deeper – apparently the rest of the way through – and, with a gurgle, the vamp dusted right before her eyes, much like Darla had. Buffy looked up at Kyle in shock as it was over, just like that.

“My, god, darling are you alright?” Joyce said, heading over to hug her daughter. 

“Uh, I think so. As much as a person could be when they’ve just cut of the head of a vampire and watched its body explode in the weirdest way,” she replied breathlessly. 

Kyle got to his feet, his face scratched and blood running down his chin. He looked back to the house. “Better keep those skills honed, you barmpot, you’ve brayed that vampire but there’s a dog with teeth the size of a great white shark an’ the crazy bitch down there too. What ‘av we got ‘ere? A cleaver, and you two, you’d better think carefully about how you’re gonna do this, mind.”

“I don’t have time to think. Whatever we do, they’re right outside the house and we’ll have to face them. The longer we leave them, the more chance there is they’ll head inside.”   
….

Spike paced the hallway like a big cat who’d spotted a meal sized child right outside his cage, he wasn’t sure he could control himself much longer before he ripped the door off its hinges, but he had enough sense left to remind himself that, even if he managed to do that, there would be no safety inside. 

Then it happened, Dru turned and made her way to the door, letting herself in and slamming it behind her, leaving Buffy outside with the hound from hell.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Currently, the town is on lockdown after Dru and her fledge (a local man she turned and who has now been dusted) caused chaos by killing local people. Our heroes – excepting Spike – were drawn outside the house by a sly Drusilla, who left a note telling them the gypsies have returned to the area and may be able to help with the curse.
> 
> At the end of the last chapter, we left Buffy, Kyle, and Joyce as they headed back to the house. Unfortunately, they were on a collision course with Drusilla and Diablo, a vampire dog Dru adopted as her friend, Spike could only watch helplessly from the inside as Dru entered the house, leaving Buffy and the others outside with Diablo.

Dru’s presence made Spike shiver as she sauntered inside the house like she owned the place, that crazy smile of hers beaming like the Cheshire cat from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

“You just listen here, Dru. I let you leave last time because I loved you once, and seems you did the same for me, but this time, comin’ back here, you’re threatenin’ all that’s dear to me. I’ll give you one final chance to walk away an’ then that’s it! Darla crossed me, an’ she got hers!”

Dru sauntered forward in her childlike way. “My dear William, it never ceases to amaze me that you think I’m here just for you. I wanted our family back together but seeing how you are with this silly little bird only makes me realize you were never truly one of us, You were never a leader, always a follower, and I was content with that once, my little sausage, but now only having my daddy back will make me happy.”

“You can’t have your daddy, Dru, don’t you understand? Angelus is gone. He was taken by the Other’s years ago. Can’t you get that through your thick skull?”

Dru looked up, horrified. “But he’s here. I can feel him.”

“That’s the bloody problem Dru, the git’s been here ever since, haunting me,” Spike said through gritted teeth. “As if being stuck in this place wasn’t like some kinda purgatory before, now it’s my own personal hell!”

“Oh no, dear William, but it’s not. You have your golden girl now. She itches the scratch I couldn’t. You wanted me to love you, dearest one, but I couldn’t love you. My heart always belonged to another.”

“And good bloody riddance to you. Look where it got me,” Spike muttered, pawing the air and taking his eyes off her for a moment as he rolled them.

She moved so quickly Spike hardly had time to react before her honed fingernails wrapped around his throat. “What did you do to my daddy!” she screamed like a banshee. He tensed, but her demeanor changed swiftly, and she spoke gently. That was Dru, as changeable as the wind. “Tell me now and I’ll only kill the humans. I’ll leave you here, free to do as you like,” she demanded, running the knifelike point of nail of the forefinger on her free hand down his cheek, drawing a droplet of blood and taking it into her mouth, suckling it like it was ambrosia. “How I’ve missed the taste of you, William.”

Great, yeah, kill anyone he cared about and leave him to mooch around like a brooding wanker. No, that wasn’t going to happen. He pushed her aside with force, ignoring her whimper. He hadn’t been locked away so long that he couldn’t remember what she was playing at. He’d felt himself beginning to be drawn in by her thrall, that warm and fuzzy feeling, like she was rewinding a ball of yarn as she pulled him closer.

“Get the fuck off me, you bloody harridan. It’s your fault I’m here in the first place! If you’d stood up to Angelus, we could’ve left here and forged a life for ourselves all those years ago!” he shouted, carefully keeping his eyes off hers. He wouldn’t be falling for that trick again.

“The cards tell me you don’t want me now, you want her!” she spat, her hands held before her like she might strike at him.

Drusilla was crazy, but she was at her most dangerous when she was at her most lucid. Which she seemed to be now. It was perilous to cross her but cross her he did. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I want a vibrant young woman above a bloody two-hundred-year-old crone? Christ, Dru, don’t you get it? No one wants you here and your daddy is gone, never coming back for you. Take your damn mutt and piss off!”

Yep, that was a bad move, he reflected, as Dru began to make a woeful sound, clutching and ripping at her hair as she shook her head vehemently from side to side. “No, you’ll never take my daddy away! He told me he’d never leave me and he’s here, I know he’s here.”

As she cried, the house began to rumble, rocking on its foundations, the roar causing windows to shatter and their frames to bend.

Spike covered his ears. “Stop it! Will you fucking stop it, Dru!” he yelled over the din, as plaster fell from the ceiling, landing in clumps on the parquet floor. He dared a glance toward the vampiress, but found her staring up, her mouth agog. Shit! If it wasn’t her doing this, then who the…?

They were coming. He felt it in his bones. The Others were coming for him and this time there was no stopping them.

…………………………………

They raced to the house, the dog hot on their heels. Buffy knew she didn’t want to die this way; she didn’t want her throat ripped out by a demon dog and for her mother to watch it happen before she suffered the same fate.

Huge roof tiles fell to the ground, smashing on the smooth path to the front door, causing Buffy to jump back as tiny splinters of rock barely missed her eyes. It was like she was back in California and an earthquake had begun. She knew exactly how it felt: like the world was about to cave in on top of you and you had no control over what would happen wherever you ran.

Kyle was battling to keep upright while holding Joyce, and Buffy could see he was struggling. She went to help him. “We can’t go anywhere. The hound!” she cried out over the uproar. They looked toward the dog and watched him edging closer on his haunches, his red eyes terrified.

They couldn’t leave, they couldn’t stay, and so they moved away from the rocking house as far as they dared, shadowed closely by Diablo.

They huddled together. Buffy squeezed her eyes closed, hoping it would end soon, and felt a wet snout push into her hand. She was too afraid to care when she felt a furry head nudge her hand aside and shelter under her arm. Of all the weird things that had happened this evening, this wasn’t one she’d expected. Diablo was as afraid as the rest of them and was seeking comfort from her. That was just what she needed, a vampire dog wanting to make friends with her in the middle of an earthquake!

……………………………………

Purple and silver sparks were running the length of the walls as they pulsated and swayed. Dru and Spike had forgotten their differences and were back to back, watching what was happening around them. Dru began clapping her hands. “Daddy’s coming! I told you he would come!” she shrieked gleefully.

The wooden slats on the stairs began to rattle and lift in succession as something sped towards them. There was a boom as a pure white sphere of light hit the ground before them and Spike felt a tug on his hand. “Spike, Grace sent me. You need to get to the safe room, they’re coming!” Tommy warned him. Spike knew what it must’ve taken for the tiny spirit to come. He was terrified of the Others and Grace wouldn’t have sent him if she didn’t believe they were in danger.

He panicked. He couldn’t leave Buffy outside. What if she came inside and he wasn’t there to protect her? But if he stayed, then he might not ever be able to help her again. He was torn momentarily. He’d loved Dru once upon a time, and if he left her here, she too could be dusted. Tommy’s small hand tugged him again. Oh well, she left him to this fate – he owed her nothing. He ran for the stairs, leaving Dru spinning in the hallway like a child.

He jumped onto the thick bannister, feeling Tommy’s small body on his back as he climbed like a monkey to the top of the stairs. There was no way to use the stairs themselves, as the slats were still playing a merry dance. He made it to the top and, as the moon glowed through the stained-glass window, he looked down the corridor towards the nursery. It was glowing a surreal gold. The light of Saint Michaels sword landed on his hand and he hissed as the scar of the Catholic medallion his mother had seared into his hand burned and sparked with a red luminescence. He stared at it, not understanding what it meant as he opened and closed his fist.

A thunderous peal came from his right, towards the west wing, and the lights went off along the corridor one by one, pitch black darkness left in its wake. He hopped over onto the landing and ran towards the nursery, holding his arms up, afraid he’d find he couldn’t enter the effulgent radiance of the corridor, that he was no longer allowed where the soulful resided. He could feel the pressure building behind as it tailed him right until he burst through the door, throwing Tommy inside and rolling to the floor like Indiana Jones without the hat.

Grace was hugging a distraught Piper as wind whipped outside the door like a hurricane and Spike struggled to close it, taking every ounce of strength he had to push it the last few inches and lock it.

He turned to Grace and looked her dead in the eyes. “They’re back, and Buffy, Kyle, and Joyce are outside with that bloody dog. I can’t stay here, I need to get to her. Fuck, I can’t let anything happen to her, I love her Grace!”

“I know. You’re a good man but you must stay here, I’m going now. You stay with Piper and Tommy. The girl couldn’t be left, lord knows what she’ll do to herself. She’s terrified.”

“Just get to Buffy and tell her not to come inside! Please, I beg you!”

He felt Grace cup his face and she was gone. He ran to the window, trying to find any sign of his love below.

“No, no, no, no, noooo!” Piper wailed, her hands covering her ears as she rocked.

He couldn’t see anything below, so he sat beside her on the bed, taking her into his arms as she shook. He felt her resist him at first and drew her closer. “Hush now, everything’s gonna be alright, pet.” But he wasn’t sure if it would be.

……

Father Michael’s eyes were on the light that was left on the horizon as he drove back from the Bishops house in York some fifty miles away, and he felt them swimming with fatigue. Bishop Joseph Nest was in the passenger seat and had insisted on joining him when he’d explained what was happening at Dead Man’s Reach. He told Michael he’d heard tales of the place during his extensive time in the church, and Michael supposed his state of utter panic and descriptions of the murders in the town had been the decider. He was coming and there would be no arguments.

It had been a strange meeting. The Bishop wore purple hooded robes and sat in the darkest corner of the room while they talked. He poured tea with calloused hands, the finger nails longer than he’d ever seen on a member of the clergy, and what Father Michael could see of his face – which wasn’t much – looked ancient, like the man was at least in his nineties. He’d insisted on waiting until almost dark before they left the deanery.

Michael wasn’t in a fit state to make small talk, so they drove in silence. He could feel the Bishop’s eyes on him as he pushed the pedal to the floor on his little car.

As they drove over the hill and down into the valley, the Bishop leaned forward, taking in the view with a sigh. Michael supposed it would look pretty to someone who hadn’t been here before, but he would never feel the same way about the place he’d once walked on a sunny morning. Taking in its beauty now, what had happened inside that house would be forever etched in his brain.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, evil is about to clash with evil as the story comes to a head.

**Chapter 34**

The Master felt the loss of his favourite Childe deeply and embarked on a journey from his home in the hidden caverns in Gombak, Malaysia. The Batu caves were fronted by a temple complex, which was a great cover for the four-hundred-million-year-old cave systems.

Occasionally, humans investigated the deeper caves, but such was the danger involved that no one would think it weird if they disappeared without a trace. Not that he and his handful of minions required the additional sustenance of the cavers; they came and went with ease through an unknown entrance deeper in the system which led right to the local villages. He had fresh blood on tap and brooded alone in the misery of being an ancient. He’d had a long and fruitful immortality thus far but had begun to find it more and more tedious as the years went by. He no longer had younger family of vampires around him, his dear Darla and her Childe Angelus. He’d never cared much for Angelus but had to admit, at least things were a little livelier with him around, and he’d taken great joy in concocting punishments for the unruly vampire during those early days. It had been over one hundred years since he’d seen either of them and then he felt Darla leave this plane. Their bond had always been stronger than any other children he’d sired, and he’d doubled over in pain, his minions frightened by the strange actions of their master as he wailed her name, his clawed hands clutching at air before he collapsed to the ground.

Once he’d recovered he’d headed for England immediately. He sensed her essence, drawn to the old country of the Yorkshire moors, and the house he’d once built there.  It had surprised him that she’d gone there. He’d once offered her property, in those days he’d he had it in abundance, but she’d been happier trailing Angelus like he was her master and she his puppy.

In those days he’d been glad to let her leave because he hadn’t had to witness her simpering for the young fledge any longer. He was glad to see the back of them, but he’d never thought she wouldn’t return to him, that she’d dust before he had the chance to bring her home into the fold.

Angelus had a pretty face, and for all the master’s wisdom, knowledge and power, the master knew he could never compete with that one aspect. He’d become uglier with age, his love of death and omnipotence reflected in his features. If he could have had her, he would’ve taken Darla as his mate, such was their connection, but she was never his to covet, she was a free spirit who belonged in the world and her heart belonged to another. He’d hoped she may come back to him eventually, once she’d had her fill of Angelus and the world but look what had happened to her. She’d allowed someone to dust her, and whomever had taken her away would pay dearly for their audacity, he had no doubt about it.

There was no better disguise than to take up a post within the clergy and he’d found such a post available on his return. Well he hadn’t found one available, he’d made one available, easily taking the life of the current Bishop and draining him after the journey, along with his assistant bishop and his household. With age had come resistance to the trinkets of religion, their artefacts futile against him.

On his arrival at the deanery he’d had a minion telephone everyone in the Bishop’s diary and cancel his appointments, feigning illness. It wouldn’t be long before people began to suspect all was not as it should be, but by then he would have time to assess the circumstances of Darla’s death and deal out punishment accordingly. By then he would be but a whisper of horror in the night.

**……….**

Buffy, Kyle, and Joyce clutched each other until the ground stopped shaking and took a step back, checking each other for injuries.

“Buffy, have you seen the lights inside the house? They’re, they’re not normal. The earth may have stopped quaking but something’s still happening in there!” Joyce said shakily.

“My Pip’s inside! Why are you standin’ here gawpin’? We must get to her!” Kyle yelled, moving towards the front door.

The dog moved swiftly and was before Kyle in seconds, growling a warning, its razor-sharp teeth bared as its jowls dripped with drool.

Diablo let out a yip as he saw Buffy and bowed on the ground before her. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of the mutt. He seemed to have curiously taken a shine to her, but he was evil, a dog of the undead for god’s sake. She shivered at what the animal was capable of.

Joyce limped a few steps and looked warily at the dog huddling to Buffy’s side. “He seems to be trying to tell us something. If he was dangerous, he’d be trying to bite us,” she ventured.

“Mom, this is no time to take orders from an undead dog, we need to get inside! Piper and Spike are in danger.”

“No, not now, you need to stay here. T-they’re here.” Grace appeared before them, her demeanour shaken, even for a ghost, as she held up her palms to stop them going inside. “There’s so much hatred and evil in that house, I don’t know if I can hold them back, I’m not sure any of us can. The Others have escaped their confines and they are out for blood.”

“But what of my Pip?” Kyle asked, blood draining from his face. He began to pace, both hands on the back of his neck. He looked like he was trying to hold back tears and Joyce struggled over to place her hand on his arm.

“Piper and Spike are with Tommy in the nursery, they’re safe, but Piper isn’t holding up so well, she’s terribly afraid and I honestly can’t say I blame the poor girl.”

“I need to go to my daft, swaimish petal. Can’t let those tosspots make her frit.” Kyle pasted on a smile and let out a shuddering breath as a show of bravado.

By now it was almost pitch black and an owl hooted from across the moor. Diablo lifted his nose and ran a few steps towards the hillock, where he barked and wagged his tail, drawing Buffy’s attention to the headlights of the car driving over the peak and making its way down into the valley.

“We can’t stay out here all night, god knows what’s out here.” Joyce peeked over each shoulder, on the lookout for the next nasty who was likely to assault them. They were in a precarious position inside or out.

“Oh, thank god!” Buffy said in relief. “The Father is here. He’ll know what to do.” She hoped she was right, because at this moment there was no plan and her heart was breaking for the two trapped inside the house. She couldn’t lose Spike. She just couldn’t.

………………………..

Drusilla stood with her arms stretched out, rotating in a circle as she laughed giddily. The lights flashed around her and she saw faces peeking out of the walls as they rippled, stared at her, and sank away.

“Oh, my pretties, come and play. I have so few playmates, come out, come out for princess.” She spoke in a childlike voice, spinning faster and faster, her voice becoming louder as she chanted, _“_ _Baby, baby, if he hears you_ _as he gallops past the house, limb from limb at once he'll tear you, just as pussy tears a mouse.”_

Laughter came from all around her as she spun, faster and faster, so fast she thought she might take off and spin through the air like the winged samara seeds of a sycamore tree.

“Take her, take her.” Began the chanting of strange voices.

“She is one with them, she sired the vampire.”

“Her dust shall scatter the halls, the walls, the floors.”

“No!” A voice she recognized interrupted her, and she felt the wood crack at her feet as a vision appeared before her, “Drusilla, my Childe, I command you to stop!”

She felt herself fall back against the wall and she slid to the floor. Her vision swirled, and she saw a blurred form before her. It became clearer as her double vision returned to single. The figure looked like it was made from ink mixed with oil, unable to take true form, its body parts unable to link together. But the face, the face was one which had haunted her dreams for forty years. Despite its onyx eyes and clouded features, she knew it was him, her sire.

“My Angelus!” she cried reaching out to him with slender fingers, “My daddy, I knew you were here. William lied, he told me you had left me, but I told him you’d never leave me, you would come back to me, to beat me black and blue, my Angel.”

_“Drusilla,”_ She heard his voice and it sounded like a thousand shards of glass tinkling, but it was unmistakably her daddy _. “Come to me.”_

The figure held out its hands and she staggered to her feet rushing into his arms. The black ink swamped her so quickly, she barely had time to register it. All she could think of was in her daddy’s arms and all was right with the world. She knew she faced uncertainty and could’ve fought it, but she felt no need. She knew this dream, she’d lived it over and over during every day since she’d lost him. She knew she would become part of them, along with her daddy, it just hadn’t made sense until now.

………………………………..

The house became quiet and Spike released Piper from his arms, walking to the door. Piper snuffled and watched him. “D-don’t leave me,” she said pitifully.

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart, I’m just gonna take a peek through the door,” he replied, feeling Tommy’s presence behind him. He’d felt a rip at his core, like a link had been broken, its presence like bats fighting to release themselves from his insides, flying clumsily at the inside of his chest. He was sure something had happened to Dru. Perhaps Buffy and the others had found a way to dust her? He couldn’t be sure what had happened, but he knew she was gone. He blinked, his eyes feeling gritty as tears threatened. He wasn’t sure what he felt. Should he care for her when she stood by and allowed him to be trapped all these years?

“Spike, they’re free, they’ll take us if we go outside,” Tommy’s sweet voice whispered fearfully.

“I know, little man, just let me take a look see. You stay here with Piper, I’ll be as quick as I can.”

……………………………..

The car puttered to a stop outside the house which was now devoid of any light, and Father Michael jumped out, rushing to them. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to get to you before now. There were murders of my parishioners in town and I’ve been caught up with church business and the police. I’ve brought Bishop Nest. I had to travel to York to speak with him and he insisted on coming here to help us.”

Bishop Nest appeared behind him, his hooded cloak covering his face, and he said nothing.

Buffy’s heart began to race. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the events of that night, but she felt a strange vibe from the Bishop. She looked around for Grace, who’d disappeared. Bishop Nest looked up at the house and she jumped when he said, “Shall we?”

Diablo cowered behind her, but she’d given up trying to work out why the dog was here and what his agenda was. It concerned her that the dog seemed even more afraid now the cavalry was here, but the animal was a law unto himself and she had no way to read his thoughts.

She was desperate to get inside the house and if the Bishop and Father Michael were going inside, then so was she. Her mother stopped her. “Please don’t. I’m afraid for you, Buffy. We could leave right now and head to the nearest airport to get a flight home,” she pleaded.

“Mom, everything will be OK. We need to be strong and we’ll get through this,” she said a little more sternly than she intended. If her mother thought she was leaving Spike, then she crazy!

…………………………………….

Whatever had been happening inside the house stopped once the Master stepped over the threshold. He could sense the Other within, just as he had all those years before. They’d tormented him into leaving the lush feeding ground over four hundred years ago. Not a sorcerer nor Witch could rid the place of the pestilence which haunted him, and so he’d left for the Americas, meeting his Darla during the following century.

It seemed they planned to continue to vex him just by their very presence, and this time he would find a way to take vengeance on them, to show them who was the true master of this home. Blood would flow once more within these walls.

He could sense many things as he walked inside; he smelled the reticent essence of Angelus and another of his line and then there was also a vigorous presence within, that of a grandchilde of his line, one who was very much filled to the brim with life, if that’s what it could be called when one was undead.

Peering to the top of the staircase, he saw the stained-glass window which would never have been thought of during his reign over this land. He was fleetingly curious as to why it had been placed there but discarded that thought as he looked around the ground floor, irritated by its modern, human furnishings and devices. Ugh, a television, who had a need for such a thing? Only human imbeciles who needed petty entertainments to fill their time. He almost felt sorry for humanity. What of books and art? Lost languages and religions? Magic's and blood, what did these puerile creatures do with their time other than languish in their own boring habits?

The humans were waiting for him to come, to make the evil leave the house, but he revelled in its troubled ambiance. It felt like home.

The priest made his presence known and began to babble about what had occurred here. He was a strange man, almost silent in his desperation to come here and then possessed by a form of verbal diarrhoea on his arrival. They deserved this, all of them, stupid, tedious beings.

He walked the floors before returning to the Priest. “Yes, this will be easy, Father, bring all who reside inside the house and we will begin.”

After all, the sun had set, and he was feeling rather peckish.

…………………………….

Spike stood at the very edge of the landing. He felt his body buzz as something old and powerful entered the house and closed his eyes as he felt a jolt: his mind relaying the dreams he’d had of a priest back in the dark ages.

He knew it! He knew the presence who had entered the house was the Master that Dru had told him of all those years before, Darla’s sire, just like he’d known in his dream the priest walking through this land in the sixteen-hundreds was the Master.

He dropped to his knees, clutching his head in his hands.

The evil and torturous bastard had returned, and god help them all!


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'd just written this chapter when I was interviewed by the Sunnydale Fanfic Club about this story (terrified as I was).  
> If you'd like to listen to the podcast, you can find it here: https://thesunnydalefanficclub.com/when-where/
> 
> At the end of the last chapter the Master had just entered the house and we predict all hell is about to take loose.

**Present day - The House**

“Shit!” Spike muttered to himself, rushing back to the nursery to find Grace now present, along with Piper and Tommy.

“I know him,” Grace said with fear clouding her features. “This house lives him, breathes him. He is the one who did this to the others, I feel it.” She moved closer, standing before Spike. “He is the one who will lead us to destruction,” she whispered. “He will bring this house down around us. The Others won’t stop until they’ve killed him.”

“I know him too, love. He’s the head of my line, the Aurelian line, and he’s hundreds, if not thousands of years old. His power is…fuck, his power is legendary. I can’t fight him, I doubt any vamp in the land could take him on, I’m a soddin’ fledge compared to him.” Spike clenched his jaw, a small muscle ticking in his cheek.

“I need to warn Buffy and the others – they have to understand the danger they’re in." Grace turned to Piper and said gently, “Piper, I think you need to make your way downstairs and leave if you can. Go home to your mother, darling.”

“I-I w-want to help, I can’t leave Kyle here alone,” Piper cried, tears streaking her face.

“Well, you can’t bloody well stay here, pet. We don’t know what’ll happen once the Others realize who the bloke is. He’s a Master vamp, stronger than I am twice over, and I can’t protect you from him.” Spike’s tone was harsh, but he meant well.

Piper seemed to pull herself together at being called the weak link and decided to put on a brave face. “I-I can help, I had a bad shock is all. I can still do something.”

“And I can’t promise there won’t be a few more of those, pet. We need all the help we can get, but if you’re not up to the job, sweetheart, then you’d best leave while you can.”

Piper stood, wiping the tears from her face and stretching. She looked like she was trying to force away any anxiety she felt, and both Grace and Spike were glad of it.

It was true, they would most likely become pawns on a battle of an epic scale between the Master and his nemeses in their attempt to gain retribution. Whomever was included in that fight could be killed or, worse, spend their afterlife with the Others if captured by them – or the Master might eat them for breakfast. Whichever way, Piper needed to be sure she wanted to stay because, in Spike’s mind, there was a chance not all of them would get out of this alive.

……………………..

Bishop Nest slowly ascended the steps to the first floor of the house, standing deliberately before the stained-glass window, his hooded cloak screening his scowl. The religious tat was all the worse up close, he decided.

He sensed a human on this floor and a signature he’d perceived when he entered was close. One of his own. How this vampire had come to be here, he couldn’t yet tell, but its essence was steadfast and strong, leading him to believe it had been here some time. Which begged the question; why were the humans allowed to live, when one from such a line as his was nesting here? He was flummoxed, but there was so much about this that confused him.

He heard voices but carried on through the house, wandering its corridors and deciding it was not at all like the house he’d built all those years before. People, he almost hissed out loud. Human people had made it their own. Their scents permeated it and gave it humanity. How could somewhere he’d built as a testament to his power become a human home, filled by human cattle who were only fit to be fed from?

…………….

Father Michael followed behind the Bishop, watching his movements and awaiting any questions he had, and watching as he paused at the beautiful stained-glass window.

Why was it only at that moment he noticed that the Bishop, although wearing a traditional cassock, was not wearing his cross? A Bishop’s cross was often an elaborately made gold cross, and it was rare to see one without it. Perhaps he had rushed the Bishop and he’d forgotten to dress appropriately? It seemed odd, to say the least, but he hadn’t met this particular bishop before now, and who was he to question his superior? But had there been a cross anywhere at the deanery? He didn’t think he’d seen one.

The Bishop paused at the entrance to the corridor containing the nursery, cocking his head to the side as if listening to something. Father Michael could hear nothing himself but clutched his bottle of holy water to himself and held his own cross, for all the good they’d done him so far.

“You told me Darla was dusted here by the hand of the little girl downstairs?” Bishop Nest queried.

Father Michael jolted and stopped for a moment. He hadn’t said anything of the sort! He’d told the Bishop a vampiress had been slain, but not what she had been called. How would he know that? Father Michael’s gut clenched, and he wondered if he’d made a mistake bringing the bishop here. This clergyman may not be who he said he was. But if he wasn’t a bishop, what the heck could be his agenda here? People didn’t willingly head into houses believed to be haunted pretending to be Bishops. Well, not if they were normal. Father Michael clutched his bottle of holy so tightly he thought it might break. Had he endangered them all by bringing what he’d thought was help?

The door to the attic creaked as the Bishop pulled it open and slowly headed up the small set of stairs.

“Your excellency, please, we don’t need to bother ourselves with the attic yet. We can start the cleansing below.”

“No. We shall begin here. Close the door behind you.”

………………………..

Buffy, Joyce and Kyle stared up at the Bishop and the Father, watching their every move. The long cloak of the bishop looked eerie in the darkness above as someone had neglected to turn on the lights. Diablo whined as he watched and then lay on the floor next to Buffy, his torn ears pricked and his paws before him.

Buffy didn’t like this one bit. She didn’t like speaking with people who didn’t show their faces; it wasn’t normal. People spoke more with expressions and body language than speech, and she needed to see his face to trust him. The Summers weren’t a particularly religious family, and she couldn’t blindly trust the Bishop like the Father did. She did, however, trust Father Michael with her life.

She began to follow them up the stairs, followed immediately by Diablo and Kyle. Joyce hobbled over to the couch and sat down to rest her foot, unable to easily make the stairs in her condition.

They headed straight to the nursery to find Spike, Piper, Grace and Tommy talking inside in hushed tones, like they were planning something.

“Sorry to break up your little gathering.” Buffy smiled as Spike turned, hearing them come in.

“Buffy! I’m so glad you’re OK, pet. This afternoon’s been pretty intense.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed the crown of her head.” Drusilla came and the Others got her – they were causin’ all sorts of hell down there in the foyer and we thought we were goners. Poor Piper here got a terrible fright when she was confronted with them in the bathroom. It was less than…” Spike looked up, hearing several loud bangs above them. It was where the attic was and where the Father and the Bishop had headed.

“That doesn’t sound so good,” Buffy said, before chewing on her lip. “The Father’s up there with him.”

Grace moved to stand beside them. “Indeed it doesn’t, child, but the Bishop isn’t who he says he is. He’s a powerful vampire and we need to stop him before the Father’s hurt. Unfortunately, the Father has delivered more trouble to the house and we already have too much to deal with.”

“What? Where the hell do these creatures keep coming from?” Buffy said thoughtlessly. She realized how she’d phrased that and shot a look of apology to Spike. “I-I mean, these vampires.” It was too late; a look of hurt flashed over Spike’s face, but he regained composure just as quickly, obviously hoping she hadn’t seen it.

“We’d best get up there, princess, else Father M’s gonna be toast.” Spike headed for the door as the banging became louder and a roar of sound followed it.

“Piper, you and Kyle stay here with mom and…” Buffy turned around and noticed for the first time her mother wasn’t there. There had been so much going on that she hadn’t had time to take stock of who was with them and who wasn’t. “Oh, crap! Where’s mom?” She walked to the door and called out, “Mom? Where are you?”

…………………….

Joyce was tired. Tired of the whole damn thing. If it was up to her, she’d pack Buffy up and leave this house for good. This job was turning out to be too much trouble. She could tell the studio she’d become ill and had to return home to California with the job incomplete. It wouldn’t take more than an hour to pack their stuff, and she could call right away to find out what flights were available.

A voice called her from above and she got up out of the chair with difficulty, limping to the hallway and calling back, “Buffy?”

Then she heard the banging above, and the whole house began to shake as gleeful hoots and triumphant yells screamed in delight from somewhere in the house.

The floor beneath her feet began to shudder and one carefully restored floorboard eased from its place, popping up. Then the others all followed suit, one after the other, headed right in her direction.

She saw Buffy come to the top of the stairs, calling for her. Her daughter watched in horror as the floor fell away, leaving only the foundations below as Joyce staggered for the stairs, her ankle delaying her as the imminent danger almost caught up to her.

Buffy ran down the stairs, now followed by Spike, who’d heard the commotion.

“Buffy!” Joyce called in desperation as the floor fell away from her feet, leaving her clinging to the bannister above a dark hole under the house with only struts where the floor had once been. “Buffy, help me!” she screamed as she hung on for dear life.

“I’m coming, Mom, hold on!” Buffy shrieked, trying to capture her mother’s free hand in her own.

Spike came behind her and managed to grasp Joyce’s hand, hauling her onto the staircase just in time.

“Oh lord, Buffy, I thought I was going to die!” she said, hugging her daughter breathlessly. “Oh, my heart is racing so fast I feel like I might hyperventilate!” Any thoughts she’d had about leaving dissipated. They were well and truly trapped now.

Another rumble was felt beneath their feet and Spike pulled Buffy by the hand. “Love, we’ve gotta move, somethings happenin’ an’ we shouldn’t stay here. We need to get back to the nursery!” Spike lifted Joyce as the treads on the stairs began to rise and fall away, leaving them with no doubt that their exit was being cut off.

When they reached the top of the stairs and moved to the landing, they saw for the first time what was below them. A hazy red light seemed to glow below them illuminating the skeletons. Some were worn with age, some still wearing clothes; some with open jaws as if they’d died screaming. All piled on top of each other, some bones so mixed up that they could only be construed as a body part and not the remnants of a person who had once lived.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brr, is that a chill that I feel? Or is it an echo of the scary ending of the last chapter?

**Present Day - The House**

A myriad of feelings went through Spike’s brain as he watched the floor fall away below. Yes, they were trapped, but wasn't he already being subjected to a lifetime of misery if he couldn't find a way out of this godforsaken place? His worry was for Buffy and her mother. Even the priest deserved his protection. He’d been there for fight with Darla; fuck, Spike would've been dust if not for the god botherer he'd become somewhat fond of.

Unfortunately, in his heart of hearts, he knew the humans had only the smallest chance of escaping with their lives, and things were becoming hairier by the minute.

He heard a whine and noticed that bloody vamped dog by Buffy's side once again, peering through the wooden rails of the bannister. Even the mutt knew there was something terribly wrong here. It was almost... well, it was almost like there was some source of evil bigger than the Others, bigger than the Master himself, something drawing them all here. Even the pit below didn't seem normal What limited experience he had with plague pits, or even communal graves, told him that they didn't glow in a murky red light. They were usually dark, dank and muddy pits, filled with the aged bones of the deceased; he’d kipped in one or two in the early days. They didn't cause vibrations which shook the foundations of houses until floors collapsed and almost took people's mothers into the hole. 

He wondered why all this was happening now. Could it be due to the return of the builder of the house? Or was something happening here that no one could've predicted? Had he been living for a hundred years over some sort of portal or gate? And if he had, then where did it lead, and why was it only opening now?

“This is not normal," he heard, as he felt the elder Summers appear beside him.

He'd become used to her spectral signature by now and spoke without looking over at her. “Don't wanna worry you, pet, but I think we passed normal three roads back. This whole thing is as far from normal as it can get."

"What is this? It's like a scene from one of those old monster movies I used to watch back in the fifties, _It Came from Outer Space_ , or _The Blob_ , with all the dry ice and moody light." Grace peered down below.

At that, a wisp of vapor swirled above the pit, making a whispering sound.

Buffy was unusually quiet, as was Joyce. Both seemed to be in shock. Then Joyce said, "How in the hell am I supposed to explain this to the studio? There's no way I can afford to replace an antique floor like that."

"Mom, I'm not sure this is the time to worry about the damn floor. We're trapped here now, they have us right where they want us, like sitting birds!" Tears streamed down Buffy's face.

"Ducks, love," Spike ventured.

"Huh?" Buffy looked confused.

"Like sittin' Ducks," he repeated.

"Look, mister," she said angrily as she stepped forward, so she was almost chest to chest with him. "You might find this funny, but I don't! My mom is injured, and Father Michael is up in the attic..." Her face went ashen and she looked above her head, "Oh, God! Father Michael’s in the attic. We have to help him!"

"On it, love." He strode purposefully to the door, where things had become eerily silent.  

Buffy turned to Joyce. "Mom, go back to the nursery and wait, you'll be safe there. We'll be back as soon as we can."

"But, Buffy, what about you? You're no more equipped than I am to fight them. We have the same power."

"I have Spike. He'll take care of me." Buffy's eyes shifted to Spike, who nodded in return. 

Joyce backed down with no more fight left in her and headed to the nursery, muttering to herself.

Grace spoke as both Buffy and Spike stared at the doorknob like it was red hot to the touch. "I will meet you at the top of the stairs. I'll warn you if it's too dangerous to enter." She swiftly disappeared.

Spike took hold of Buffy by the top of both arms and pushed her back against the wall. They'd had little chance to be together, and he wanted Buffy to know how afraid he'd been for her, how much he loved her and wanted her safe. He kissed her desperately, as if their very lives depended on it.

……

It was all too much. Buffy knew she and Spike could die here and then all their efforts would be in vain. The Others could find them and kill them as they left the place of safety and angered them further by wanting each other so badly they'd risk taunting them with their presence in the no man's land which was the house.

Buffy felt feverish in her passion for Spike. The feel of his taut and muscular chest under her fingertips as she traced him and learned his body with her hands made her need for him to touch her again all the more desperate. 

Life had never been the same once she'd walked through the door to this place. Desolate and terrifying though it might be, it was made better with Spike’s presence. Ever since she began to become a woman, she'd fantasised about a man like Spike, but he was faceless, and never with a body built for sin like his was. Spike personified everything she'd ever wanted or needed, and she touched his alabaster skin reverently, wanting more.

He moved to take hold of her hands as they strayed towards his belt buckle.

"Buffy, we shouldn't, there isn't time." He moaned as she ran her hand along the seam on his zipper, which was elongated by his hard cock. 

"What if this is the last time? We should take our opportunities to be alone while we can, because tomorrow we might be dead."

"Don't say that, pet. I'd dust before I let anything to happen to you!"

“Can we forget, just for a few minutes? If I lost you I don’t know what I’d do. Please, Spike,” she all but begged. Fear somehow made her unusually horny, and she guessed it was the adrenaline and constant state of fight or flight.

She knew he would never deny her. When had he ever since they’d met? Even their first night together had been filled with unfulfilled passion, hesitant touches and fearful embraces. If this was going to be her last night on earth, then she wanted what she couldn’t have. Him.

He sighed deeply and looked around the corridor, no doubt to check they were alone. “We’ll need to be quick. The Father and Gracie are waitin’ upstairs for us.”

Before she could attempt to make any reply, he spread her legs, lifted her up and slammed her against the wall until they were joined at the core. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he peppered kisses and nips along her neck and décolletage. “Buffy, oh fuck, I need you so badly.” He moaned as he ground his cock against her, causing lightening bolts and heat to radiate throughout her entire being.

She reached down to release his rock-hard member and squeaked in delight as its heavy weight bounced onto her bare stomach. She knew she shouldn’t do this, she knew any minute they could be caught, but she relished the very feel of him. Her hand ached to pull off her panties and allow him to take her then and there. Ghosts be damned.

He shuddered at her touch. “Oh, Buffy, so warm, so, uh, so perfect.” He pushed her hand away and returned to grinding her against the wall. It wasn’t enough friction; the feel of his bare cock against the seam of her jeans only made her more desperate. She needed more.

“Spike, more, I need more.”

This seemed to shake him from whatever lust-filled haze he was in and she could almost see him warring with himself over how far he should go. She knew her grandmother had told him in no uncertain terms he wasn’t to take her virginity, and she didn’t understand why being unsullied would make her able to fight their foe any better than the other women in the house who weren’t virgins. The blood pumping through her body and the fiery heat he’d created in her wanted him to just do it, just take her and allow her to revel in him, for them to become one. The Others had already taken so much from them both: Spike’s life, undead or not, and her chance to enjoy the first flush of true love. Why should they get to take that from them?

He was hesitating. She knew it was because she was a virgin. “No,” he said, gently lowering her to the ground.

She opened her mouth to complain and he placed a finger over her lips. “It’s not what you think, love,” he said, biting the corner of his lip and allowing it to spring back as he spoke again. “It’s because I don’t want out first time to be like this, a hurried exchange in a drafty corridor, like two strangers in a dirty alley. I want to make love to you. I want to take my time with you and I can’t here.” When she pouted, he moved to her ear, his hands palming her tits as if they too were sad to stop. “Our time will come, princess, and when it comes I’m gonna make you scream the place down, make you cum so many times you won’t know which way is up. Do you believe me, sweetheart?”

She was frustrated that he’d made that decision for her, but his torrid words whispered earnestly in her ear made her believe he would. In fact, the whole thing had made her madder than hell. Who were these Others to take this away from her! The quicker they dispatched them, the sooner she and Spike could get back to enjoying each other with no distractions. They may have little time as it was.

Cupping his face with one hand, she kissed his plump, pink lips and nodded, giving in, but still aching for him. She’d allow him to make the decision this time, knowing in future she’d make him pay for this in many sexy ways.

Once their panting subsided, they checked each other for smudged lip gloss and tidied their clothing. Spike opened the door to the attic quietly, but the underused door squeaked in protest. “Bloody hinges need oiling, love,” he said through gritted teeth, wincing.

“Oh, excuse me while I go and fetch some WD-40, Spike. I think we have more pressing matters,” Buffy quipped, sounding more cheerful than she felt. This earned her a wry look from the vampire, but then the corners of his mouth curved into a smile as he looked up the steps to find any sunlight which usually flooded the attic at this time of the day now lacking. This wasn’t good.

…….

As they crept up the steps, Grace was waiting for them. “What kept you?” she hissed angrily.

“W-we, um…” Buffy began.

“I know what you were doing, and while you’ve been doing that, this is what’s been happening here.” Grace pointed to the Master and a blood-soaked Father Michael. Both were standing stock still, in what looked like some lovers embrace, before the black mass of the Others. Spike knew the Master had attempted to devour the priest, but something had stopped him, most likely the Others.

It was deathly silent, apart from the squelching entity as it made its way across the wall, almost at ceiling height. It seemed larger than when they had last seen it, and this expansion was undoubtedly due to their newest member, Drusilla. God, she was so childlike, she’d never have realized what she was getting herself into when she joined her ‘daddy’. Her peculiar brand of sixth sense would unquestionably have strengthened them.

Then they heard mutterings, Spike couldn’t quite make out what they were saying but he could see the blackened hands as they reached out towards the Master and Father Michael, tar oozing and dripping to the floor in long globules.

“Glad you could join us, William, Buffy.” A voice echoed the room, it seemed to be coming from everywhere and Spike knew it was Angelus.

“Sorry, mate, seemed we weren’t invited to the party. I so hate to gatecrash,” Spike said, attempting to sound confident and assured.

“William, my William, come join daddy and I. ‘Tis like sunshine and roses here with our friends,” Drusilla’s voice tinkled like the ringing of tiny bells.

“Thanks ever so, but I think I’ll turn down your kind offer, pet. You see, I have a reason to live now and it isn’t you.” Shit. He’d said it before he thought of what the consequences of upsetting a member of the ghastly multitude might be.

Drusilla let out an ear-splitting scream, which would’ve burst their eardrums had they not covered their ears. They all watched in horror as further screams joined hers, and the windows smashed one by one. Spike pulled Buffy to the other side of the attic, sheltering her from the flying shards.

“Stop this! In the name of our lord, stop this right now!” Father Michael yelled as he was showered in glass. Blood ran in rivulets down his face, mingling with the blood already running the length of his neck.

The Master pulled away from the priest. “Oh dear. This is a pickle. Who would’ve thought you would all be waiting for me after all these years? I must say, I’ve found many better distractions since I left this house. Oh, how I have lived and taken lives, so many lives. You see,” he lowered his hood and took a step towards them, without an ounce of fear, “you stay here at my bidding. I have lived, as far as it can be described, and you pitiful creatures have been trapped here all this time. It’s delicious.”

Spike felt Buffy take a step back, her hand still in his, as she trembled at the sight of the Master.

“I know Ole bat ears is ugly, sweet.” He pulled her under his arm and kissed the knuckles of the hand he’d been holding.

“Ugly isn’t really the word.”

He chuckled.

“Ah, William. I’ve been waiting to meet the only one left of my line.” The master turned to him, clearly he’d heard what Spike had said. Bat ears indeed.

“Come to me, boy, and tell me how you resisted becoming part of this strange mass of mongrels and humans.” He held out his hand, his long, yellowed claws beckoning him forth.

Spike couldn’t help it as he placed a foot forward, seeming to take on a life of its own. The Master’s eyes were like alluring orange pools, and he wanted to join him even though he knew he shouldn’t. He felt the tug of the Aurelian line, and the will to join the head of the clan and do his bidding was too much; he took another step. He felt his demon cowering away into the darkest recess of his mind, lamenting his movements and whimpering for Buffy.

Feeling resistance from Buffy’s hand, he willingly let her hand drop and walked the short distance to the clan leader, bowing his head as if the Master were royalty.

“William, I think I like you even more now I know you’re susceptible to thrall. Come, my boy, tell me why you’re here and why these humans are still in the land of the living.”


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We left Buffy and Spike facing the Master and the Others in the attic at the end of the last chapter. Spike was under the Masters thrall and it seemed things were going badly for them all.

**Present Day - The Attic**

Spike’s demon wasn’t happy about what was happening; he too loved Buffy and wanted her. He cried in his dark place, calling for her in unintelligible words as he cowered, secluded from the workings of Spike’s mind.

He listened to Spike tell the Master everything, right down to why the nursery was protected and who was inside, why they were cowering away from the Others, believing they were the only foe in the house, until now.

The demon was screaming for Spike to stop, to not let another word put Buffy and the others in danger. He was a friend of Buffy’s mother as well as Spike, and he liked Piper and Kyle. They all would taste delectable if he and his host were not almost vegetarian; rats and pigs blood counted as being vegetarian, right? The priest and his holy ways terrified him, but he also believed the man of god would not hurt them, because Spike told him so. Spike spoke to him in many ways throughout the day and anything Spike didn’t say outright formed in clouds around him, leaking from his mind’s eye. They tickled a little as they rubbed against him and he kind of liked the feeling, it made him feel closer to Spike.

Buffy was calling out to Spike, telling him to stop, and demon took her lead, begging him to stop, to go back to her side, but his beseeching made no crack in the glass wall Spike had laid before him. There was a fog on the other side separating him from Spike and he banged against it with clawed fists to no avail. Spike would not listen. Either that, or he could no longer hear him.

………………….

The tears Buffy shed were blinding as she watched the love of her life leave her and tell the Master everything, the Master listening intently and making no sound other than to ask a handful of probing questions.

There was a whoosh of air as Diablo passed her and bit into the seat of Spike’s jeans, pulling with all his might and growling, like he’d kill the Master himself if given the opportunity.

The Master held a hand out to silence the mutt as he peered down at the dog formerly known as Shep. “Dearest William, could you explain why I feel a link with this animal?”

Spike told the Master about Dru turning the dog, and the Master shook his head in awe. “I do wish I had met Drusilla. I had never once thought of turning an animal. She was truly remarkable. From what you have told me, one such as she would be the only vampire to think of such a thing. It is glorious!” The Master moved to Diablo, and after a few moments of staring, the dog turned and walked back to Buffy. “Hmm, it seems the dog has chosen its mistress and will not be hoodwinked.” He clapped his hands gleefully. “But William is captivated and will stay by my side and do my bidding as a true Aurelian should.”

In all this, the Master had not once looked back at the Others, not as Buffy had. She had hardly taken her eyes off them and glanced from the mass to the Master over and over, waiting for something to happen. Nothing had. The Others were still whispering to each other when, finally, she heard a voice.

“William is nothing to the Aurelian line. Join us.” She knew the spine chilling voice to be Angelus, she’d heard it when she fell into the basement, his was a voice she’d never forget.

She saw a face push forward from the accumulation and looked on in horror as an arm reached for the Master.

“Hmm, such a tempting offer, but I think I’ll pass, Angelus. I’m not as weak as you,” the Master muttered, causing the Others to begin grumbling once more. The noise grew as the Others argued amongst themselves.

“Angelus, you are one of us, you cannot invite him in, not him!”

“He cannot join us. He must be destroyed!”

“The Master sent us to this damnable hell. We cannot stand to have him with us for an eternity.”

“Jaysus, pipe down you pack of eijits, didn’t you hear him say he wouldn’t feckin’ join us? Do you have ears?”

There was silence and muttering again as they agreed amongst themselves they didn’t have ears.

“Daddy, grandpapa would join us if you asked nicely,” Drusilla said, her voice like a troupe of dancing butterflies within a sea of wasps. “Grandpapa, please join us. It’s such fun here,” Dru pleaded.

“Thanks ever so for the kind invitation,” the Master said, turning to stare at the mass for the first time. He ignored Father Michael as the man took his moment to run towards Buffy and Grace, almost falling at their feet. “But I prefer to drain the people in this house and add them to your number. You shall have your additional members and I shall leave with my great-grandchilde. It seems his current priorities may be a little wayward, but he will make a fine Lieutenant in the war I plan to wage against humanity once he’s shown the way by a true leader.”

That was it, the catalyst, and Angelus screamed in fury, “Get them! Kill them all!!!” The mass grew larger, undulating across the whole wall.

“No! You will not!!!” Buffy shrieked, realizing she may well have lost Spike to the Master forever. “You will never take the people of this house W-we won’t allow it!”

The Master stalked forth, ignoring the terrible noise behind him as the Others let out an almighty roar, ripping the attic apart as they made their way towards the Master. He lifted Buffy’s chin with a talon, its sharp-edged tip causing a rivulet of blood to run down her neck as he exposed her carotid artery. “And what, pray tell, does a little girl like you think you’ll do to an ancient such as me? I’m intrigued to know.”

…………………………………….

Spike was compos mentis all along. Call it a hunch, but he had learned to separate himself from his demon long ago as he knew he was the weaker of them both. How else would he have managed more than a lifetime of living amongst humans and never killing one? He felt his shielded alter ego desperately trying to help him escape the thrall, so that they both might survive. But to survive this, Spike needed to think like a human, to be sly and savvy and to ignore that side of him which made him one of the undead, made him weak under the spell of the elder vampire. Their lives depended on it.

He had allowed the Master to enter his mind, and he’d told him everything he needed to know about Buffy, her mother, and her gang of friends. But he hadn’t told everything: he hadn’t told the Master of Grace, Buffy and Joyce’s power, or who killed Darla. This was the answer to the question the Master asked, the question of how he’d not become part of the Others.

The Master was distracted now, and he had made a fatal move by touching Buffy. Spike changed his face momentarily from the feral vampire the Master had thought he’d changed him to and looked towards Father Michael and Grace.

…………………

Holy mother of god, this was the closest to evil Father Michael had ever experienced, and he had cowered before it. His prayers had always been his savior; his loyal faith in the lord had always been stalwart. But when he looked true evil in the eyes, he’d buckled and couldn’t move. He’d allowed the vampire to drain his life’s blood to the point he knew he would die without ever receiving the last rights.

Then Buffy and Spike had arrived, and he’d felt the tiniest fragment of hope. That was, until Spike had been taken into some kind of thrall by the gross older vampire Father Michael had mistaken for his Bishop. He had no idea how he hadn’t realized the Bishop was a vampire, how he hadn’t seen the signs.

The Others had almost been the last thing he’d seen before he died, a pendulous, foul and disgusting entity attached to the wall with the thin membrane of a fluctuating wasp nest.

Help had arrived, but then he had been saved at the expense of another. Spike. Father Michael scuttled away while the false Bishop focused his attention on a vampire Father Michael had learned to trust with his life, who’d fought alongside him and saved him and many others from Darla. The good and evil in every being had become a reality at that moment and the teachings of the church had become somewhat muddy to him, making him question how such a good creature could come from the fibers of something deemed so evil.

He found himself cowering as the elder vampire moved to Buffy and sought to do her harm. He wanted to close his eyes and wish it all away, he wanted to run from this place and never return, but this was not his job. His job was to protect the good from evil, and that good included Spike. He took a moment to glance up to the younger vampire, panting as his heart raced in absolute panic, and he saw the real Spike staring back at him, he was sure of it. Spike moved his fingers, pointing to the Master as if to indicate he was about to make a move. Father Michael understood. It was now or never. The Master had to be destroyed for any of them to escape with their lives. Father Michael knew he or Spike may not be one of the lucky ones and made his peace with that. He readied himself, taking the stake from his pocket and his bottle of holy water.

………………………

Now that she’d screamed out, Buffy didn’t know what to do. Spike was in danger and she just wanted to run away and hide until it was all over, but she’d never leave him. She questioned whether the Master might turn her vampire against her, and whether Spike would allow himself to harm her. In her heart, she knew Spike would never hurt her willingly, but at this moment he wasn’t her Spike, he was some undomesticated beast who could turn against her at any time.

The Master had set his sights on her, and she froze as his nasty old claw prodded at her neck. His breath stank like someone who was hundreds of years old, which of course he was, and his proximity made her want to hurl in his face, just like that girl out of the Exorcist. Cordelia had once bet her she wouldn’t watch the movie all the way through, alone and in a darkened room. She’d watched it during the day when her mom was at work and had nightmares for a week. The movie had such an effect on her that her mother had needed to take her to the doctors for a sedative to help her sleep and she remembered every damn part.

Frantically searching her memory of the movie, she remembered there was a priest in the room and he kept saying religious prayers as he tried to beat back the demon. What was it he’d said? His name was Father Merrick, no Father Merrin!

She glanced below, catching Father Michael’s eye before blurting out, “I command you by the judge of the living and the dead to depart from this servant of God.”

The priest gasped as he heard the sacred words of the exorcism and stood on wobbling legs, leaning against the window ledge for support.

……………………………………….

How did she know those words? They were out of context but part of the prayer of exorcism, and Father Michael only learned of them himself by researching in the British Library. These were not prayers traditionally taught to your everyday priest and certainly not normally something a young girl might now offhand. Nevertheless, Buffy’s words prompted his own memory of the prayers of cleansing he’d expected the Bishop to know and embark on once he’d entered the house. Now that the Bishop had been found to be the root of all evil, the saving of souls was down to Father Michael, and he would save whomever he could.

From memory he began, clutching his rosary beads in one hand and kissing the cross. He’d never planned on needing them, but this wasn’t a normal situation.

“See the cross of the Lord. Be gone you, hostile power. O' Lord hear my prayer,” he yelled.

…………………………………………..

 

Grace moved to speak in Buffy’s ear, “Good girl, you are doing so well, now feel the power! Feel it, Buffy. I can help you, but you must use every ounce of strength you have, my darling. Please, for me. Shake off your fear and rid this place of evil!”

The matriarch of Buffy’s family couldn’t believe that the Master couldn’t see her, or that the Others she’d banished so swiftly before took no notice of her presence, more bothered by the elder vampire.

Spike crouching on the floor behind the Master as the fiend cocked his head, his fangs glinting in the moonlight as he moved towards Buffy’s neck.

The Others began to shrink in size as the Father began a prayer, backing away into the corner of the attic, their screams of pain silenced as they desperately tried to escape through the cracks in the ceiling.

“I cast you out!!! Unclean spirit!” Father Michael yelled, and the Master stepped back in confusion.

“Buffy, can you feel it?” Grace called as the wooden floorboards of the attic rattled and debris-filled dust began to circle the room, lit up with lightning rods of pink and purple, fuelled by Grace’s power.

“This is your time, Buffy. You must find the power inside you to banish him, banish them!”

The elder vamp shook his head in confusion at what was happening. “Your prayers and magics mean nothing to me! I am an ancient! Your resistance is futile!”

…………………………

Spike took his moment. The Master may not be defeated by prayers and magic alone, but Spike would do everything in his power to take him down.

He waited until the Master turned to him and commanded him.

“Kill them! Kill them all! We shall feast on their blood this night and you shall be mine, you shall live forever in my arms!” The Master cast his arm aside in invitation for Spike to take and kill the humans.

Spike didn’t have time to make sense of what the Master meant, but if it meant what he thought it did, it made him want to kill him all the more. He was sure he heard Angelus chuckle behind him before he hurled himself at the Master, sinking his teeth into his neck before his momentum caused him to fall to the floor before the priest. Barely seconds later, the Master writhed as Father Michael threw a whole bottle of holy water on his face. The Master, not being as susceptible to the religiously blessed water as other vamps, was more than pissed and rose to swiftly backhand Father Michael against the wall.

“Buffy, sweetheart, if you and your gran are gonna do something, make it now!” Spike yelled as he took his chance once more, jumping onto the Master’s back and sinking his fangs into one of his bat ears. He couldn’t help it; the ear was the closest thing to grab a hold of.

The Master roared as Spike ripped it off and spat it to one side, and walloped the younger vamp, who found himself on the floor beside the unconscious priest.

“You! You will die for this, fledge! You dare to touch me!” he shrieked, pausing as a bolt of light hit him in the chest.

The Master looked down at the glowing pink and purple orb and then to Buffy.

“Oh, shit!” were his shocked words as he burst into flames, his dust coating every surface in the room.

…………………

Buffy’s legs almost gave way as an orb of light left her chest and bolted straight to the Master, hitting him right where his heart should be.

She’d had the strangest feeling as Grace combined her own strength with hers. Her own dead grandmother had stepped inside her body and their united power had become one, causing a ripple to flood her body, their minds fusing in one thought. Sunshine.

Remembering a day back in India when she’d lain on her back in the garden of their house as her Ayah read her a story, her mind’s eye conjured the blinding daylight she’d shielded her eyes from, and she realised Grace had been there too, watching over her. Using the conjoined thought, they’d blasted the hell out of their foe and his dust fluttered through the air.

Buffy sat exhausted on the floor with a thump. Boy, this magic stuff really takes it out of you, she thought.

Diablo shook his whole body, coming to life again now that his thrall by the Master was gone. He whined and licked Buffy’s ear.

Before she could revel in their victory, the Others let out a terrifying scream of victory, shaking the house at its very foundations.

“One down, only another seven to go!” Angelus crowed. His voice followed the sinister braying of his counterparts, only one giggling female voice audible through the horrifying sound.

“We mustn’t forget my William.”

“Don’t worry, my darling Dru. I promise you, your William is next!”

Diablo moved in front of Buffy and growled, baring his teeth at the mass.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are only a few chapters left of this story, and this chapter is a cracker, hold onto your hats!

**Present Day - The Attic**

“Fall back!” Father Michael screamed as the mass containing the Others grew larger, its slimy, tar filled pustule eating the space in the room inch by inch until it left only a tiny space filled by Buffy, Spike, and Diablo.

The priest had made it to the stairs and held his hands over the bannister. “Fall back now. Buffy, give me your hands!”

Spike couldn’t take his eyes off the Others. The terror that they would take Buffy filled him and he grasped her waist, hoiking her up and over the rail and into the Father’s arms. Diablo squeezed through the bars and followed them as they retreated.

The floorboards rattled, and plaster rained down from the walls. “Pet, please, you’re more breakable than I am, you need to go now!” Spike yelled over the pandemonium.

“Spike, no! I’m not leaving you! Please don’t make me leave you!” Buffy sobbed as the wall coverings disappeared and the bricks behind them began to fall.

Spike was cornered now, the Others absorbing any space between them, and he screamed out again, “Michael, you better bloody well get that girl out of here right now or I’ll drain you myself!”

The Father had his hands around Buffy’s waist, yanking her towards the door at the bottom of the stairwell.

“Nooo! Please, Spike! No! You get off me, I don’t want to go!” She caterwauled, kicking out at Father Michael and trying to get loose.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, we have to go!” Father Michael shouted as he heaved her through the door and slammed it behind him with his foot.

Both fell to the floor, breathless, sobbing her heart out as she said Spike’s name over and over.

She jumped up, rattling the door handle and shouldering it, almost hysterical. “It won’t open, make it open! No, no! Spiiikkke!”

…

Spike was fucked. He knew it and they knew it. He searched frantically for anything which would stop him from becoming one of the them. He wouldn’t do it! But there was no handy stake anymore, he’d lost that days ago, and no sunshine in this room filled by evil incarnate. So, yes, he was right royally buggered.

The space between him and the Others shrank until he could feel their stinking breath on his cheek, so close they could devour him at any moment.

“William, my William, join us,” Dru’s voice trilled. It sounded abstract, like it was coming through a long and wide pipe.

“Yeah, boyo, you can only serve to strengthen us. We can take the little bitch first!” Liam spoke, his malicious voice sounding strangled as they moved closer.

“Take the girl,” another eerie voice brayed.

“The girl will lead us to the light,” another said.

“Will you shut the fuck up,” Liam roared.

Inside Spike’s head, his demon no longer cowered. His demon knew there was to be trouble and he knew he had to do something to stop them being devoured by the Others. He disliked the thought as much as Spike.

He’d already broken the wall down in Spike’s mind and now he ran, racing to the fore, causing the bones in Spike’s face to shift. Spike roared, every muscle in his body tense as he dropped into fight mode, preparing to battle to the death before he’d let them take him.

“For goodness sake, Spike, is there the need for so much drama?” he heard whispered in his ear. It was Grace. He’d never been so happy to see anyone in his whole existence, even if she was a spectre.

She held one palm towards the Others, pushing them back with what power she could, and with the other hand created an orb which punched through the floorboards, creating a hole.

“Spike, go now! You don’t have much time, I-I can’t…I can’t hold on…much longer,” She said, sounding strained.

Spike didn’t need to be told again and jumped down the hole into a room in the West Wing of the house, legs flailing as he fell and landed on his back. The light went out above him and he realised the Others were filling the hole, already following him.

“Wee Willy, did you think the old bitch could hold us back? She hasn’t the power to stop us now. No one has the power!” Angelus called from the dark.

“We shall snap and crack and whack all the humans, we shall feast on the priest, we shall…”

“I think he’s got the message Dru,” Angelus chided irritably.

“Kill him, kill them all!” The babble of voices sing songed.

Spike knew he’d had a bloody close call, so why the hell was he standing listening to this lot, when he could be out of there.

“Listen, you tossers! The battle may be won, but you still haven’t won the soddin’ war!” he screamed out, beginning to lose all reason.

“Oh, but sweet William, we have won the war. You just don’t know it yet!” Angelus claimed.

“Bye, fuckers!” He ran from the room, slamming the door behind him.

…..

“Spike! Oh, my god, Spike!”

Buffy saw her love running towards her from the West Wing. He was almost at the top of the staircase when she saw the door and the end of the corridor explode, showering debris everywhere.

Diablo ran the length of the corridor towards him, nipping at his heels to make him run faster and barking desperately.

She saw Spike turn and pick up speed as the door to the next room burst just as violently. Then the next, as if a physical body was moving at speed just behind the walls.

Joyce, Kyle, and Piper ran out of the nursery, watching in horror as the lights went out behind Spike in intersections, each bulb blowing above his head as each door detonated, showering him in sparks.

“Buffy, you need to leave. We can’t hold them back any longer, they’re too strong!” Spike yelled.

Father Michael dropped to his knees and began to pray.

“Saint Michael Archangel, defend us in battle, be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil; may God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God, cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl through the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.”

Grace appeared in front of them. “Joyce, Buffy, this is your time, we must join together. We cannot wait any longer – this is out time, my beautiful kin, only we can stop this wickedness. Only we can bring this to an end.”

Joyce stepped back, terror written across her features. “I’m afraid, mom, I can’t.” She turned to flee, and her arm was caught by Buffy.

“Mom, you can do this. I can do this. We must, don’t you understand?”

Joyce nodded tearfully, gripping Buffy’s hand and allowing her to move to Father Michael’s side in the narrow corridor.

The three stood like the holy trinity, their hands interlinked.

“Feel it! Feel the power in your gut, in your throat. Push it out, push it until you feel like you can’t push anymore!” Grace called.

Spike reached the stained-glass window and tripped, falling to the floor. He looked up at Buffy; she was beautiful, lit up like an angel in golden hues, her hair blowing as wind whipped it around her face, an ethereal glow flooding her body along with the power of her family.

The prayer of St Michael the Archangel rang in Buffy’s mind as their collective connection poured through her body, the tingles reaching her every extremity. Her heart pounded as power coursed through her chest and, in her mind, she heard one sound, white noise, all other sounds dissipating. There was only this, only her in the whole world.

Her mom screamed beside her, trying to tug her hand from Buffy’s, but Buffy held fast. She could feel it, the force building inside her, ready to snap free.

“Hold it, hold on until it reaches its peak. You can do it, Buffy. Joyce, just please hold on!” Grace yelled.

The Others were almost upon them, every light had burst with a bolt of electricity and the darkness had almost reached them with an inhuman roar.

Spike was on his knees before Buffy. “You can do it, baby. You can do this. Make these bastards pay!” he hollered as Diablo barked, chasing his tail in excitement.

There was sudden clarity in Buffy’s mind and she stopped, like everything had just fallen in to place. She knew what she had to do.

She opened her eyes and Spike scrambled back. They glowed silver, staring above his head. “Woah!”

Kyle and Piper were standing behind the three and the priest, clutching each other in terror, with little Tommy by their side. “Holy fucking Jesus.” Kyle said, unable to believe his eyes as the stained-glass window shattered and a glass statue of Saint Michael the Archangel stepped out and stood before the group, his large sword in hand, his armour covered chest gleaming, while pieces of shattered wood and glass tinkled to the floor around him.

Father Michael stopped praying momentarily, also unable to believe his eyes, but then began praying again with forceful fervour. This was like a sign from god. Now was not the time to stop his prayer; he had to keep going, keep speaking the lord’s word.

Buffy was talking to herself, her words inaudible to any others than Joyce and Grace. The women began to chant, “We cast you out, unclean spirits!” over and over.

The giant statue turned towards the Others, who’d stopped at the end of the corridor, on the other side of the window, making woeful and sorrowful sounds.

“This cannot be real,” One cried.

“No, get the girl, kill her.”

“Take her, take her now.”

“You are fucking idiots; how do you propose to get past that?” Liam said, knowing their number was up as soon as the statue had appeared.

“Daddy, make it go away! I don’t like it,” Dru begged.

The statue sparkled in the gilded light as dawn peeped over the horizon.

Buffy could feel it. The power was at its fullest in her chest and she was ready. With a snap, she unleashed it; the giant orb fled her chest and crashed into the animated glass statue, hitting him where his heart should be.

Saint Michael turned away from her, his sights set on the Others as he took heavy, staggering steps towards them, swinging his holy sword and slicing into them.

The Others screamed an unholy wail and spread out in all directions, as if attempting to run from their prison, but found themselves scooped up in the holy vessel’s arms.

Angelus screamed, “You can’t let them do this to us, William, we’re family!”

“Save us, my William!”

But Spike just stared in disbelief as Saint Michael stepped to the edge of the window, the mass desperately trying to escape his arms. He looked back to Buffy, who nodded, and he jumped, taking the Others with him.

Everyone rushed to the window and watched as Saint Michael and the Others smashed into a million pieces on the concrete below. There was a flutter as a flock of doves were released and flew into the air above, the remains of Saint Michael.

Then there was a rumble as the ground began to move beneath and a crack developed where they had landed. Inside the crack, there was intense fire. It was the gates of hell and the agonised screams could be heard deep inside, begging for release from their torment.

No one spoke apart from Spike, who muttered “Sayonara, suckers!” as he peered down from a sunless place beside the window ledge. The hatred he’d felt for his family smashed to smithereens alongside them. He shuddered, not much liking that the mouth of hell had swallowed them whole, but it was no less than they deserved.

Buffy felt sick and hollow with exhaustion, her legs giving way. Spike caught her and laid her gently on the ground. The house was deathly silent as they all stared at each other, reluctant to believe it was really over. Still too filled with the horror of it all to celebrate.

“You did it, sweetheart, you really did it!” Spike said, peppering kisses over her face and taking her into his arms, followed by Diablo licking her face and drooling.

Piper and Kyle were tending to Joyce, who was equally as wiped out by the prayer, and Father Michael was standing stock still, deeply shocked. He’d seen a miracle with his own eyes, he was sure of it. His faith was restored in his lord and saviour.

Kyle went to him and urged him to sit, Piper following and hugging the priest.

The glow from the lower floor had disappeared along with the evil entity, and now all that could be seen was a bunch of old bones.

Tommy pulled on Grace’s hand. “Yes, dearest?”

“Don’t you feel it?” he asked.

“Feel wh…? Ah, yes, I feel it, my boy,” she replied with a serene smile.

“We can’t let it leave, we must go now, nana Grace.” He pulled on her sleeve desperately.

“I understand, my boy, just give me a moment.” She walked to her granddaughter and took her hand. “Buffy, you did so well, I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud of you both.” She moved and grasped Joyce’s hand too. “But this is the end of the line for me. Tommy and I, we feel the call.”

“The c-call?” Buffy stuttered, her eyes, now back to their glittering green, filling with tears. “No, you can’t go. Please, I’ve only just gotten to know you.”

Joyce was crying too. “Mom, please, no, I’ve only just gotten you back.”

Grace bowed her head, “My girls, you know this was never meant to be, it was only by true chance I was here at all. You must promise me you will be there for each other, to help and protect each other always.” Grace wiped a tear away and stood, taking Tommy’s hand. She looked down at them. “I’ll watch over you.”

The sunlight rose with the promise of a beautiful day, its beams directed on Grace and Tommy as they headed towards it. Tiny stars flittered through the warm glow, surrounding them both. Tommy waved goodbye before looking lovingly to Grace as they walked into the light together.

And then they were gone as if they’d never been there at all, leaving Buffy and Joyce sobbing together in Spike’s arms. Spike sniffed and wiped his eyes when he thought no one was looking. Bloody decent woman, that Grace, he thought.

All nursing their wounds, they made their way back to the nursery, no longer needing its protection but using it as a place to re-group.

The worst was over.

 


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I present you with the red hot chapter 39 of If I should Dust Before I Wake.

**Present Day – The House**

In the days following the final battle there were many tears shed, especially by Buffy and Joyce, over the loss of Grace. The others mourned the loss of the feisty old woman, but none like her kin.

Buffy stored the wonderful memory of the sight of Grace and Tommy moving on to their rest in the light of god, but somehow this didn’t detract from the grief she and her mother felt. Buffy felt like something was now missing from her life, something which had been there always, until now, and something she knew she would never feel again. Grace had explained to her once that she’d been with her since she was born, guiding her as much as possible, and now she missed that guidance—it felt like an ache in her belly that wouldn’t go away.

Her mother tried to ignore her newfound power, and Buffy guessed it was a form of self-protection. Her mom possessed a power she hadn’t ever wanted and had once locked away in a box marked ‘never to be opened’. The consequences of opening this Pandora’s box had been too much for her and she had become withdrawn, unable to talk about it, no matter how hard Buffy tried. She wanted to be happy for Grace, she wanted her mom to celebrate her own mother’s life, but perhaps there was too much left unresolved at the end for her mother to totally forgive her grandmother.

They knew the clean-up operation would take weeks, and began by patching up the family rooms, and giving Spike a room on that level—as his own had been obliterated up in the attic. Joyce threw herself into her work wholeheartedly, but Buffy knew this was in an effort to bury what had happened. She allowed this for now but decided she would speak to her mother about finding a therapist when the time was right.

Home was here for Buffy, alongside her love. She could never believe otherwise, and she hoped they would have an answer to Spike’s predicament when her mother’s contract ended. she could barely think of anything else.

Father Michael had only visited once or twice since the culmination of the supernatural goings on, but he had a renewed vigour when he did, like his faith in god had been fully restored and he was out there fighting for his parishioners’ souls. He’d confided in Buffy that he’d been asked to go to Rome to discuss the goings on at Dead Man’s Reach with the Pope himself, and there had been talk of a possibility of joining a crack team of exorcists who dealt with reports of demon possession and hauntings all over the world. The father had confided in Buffy and Spike that he wasn’t sure about the post but would pray on it to make the decision whether to leave his parish and his home in Yorkshire.

Kyle had proposed to Piper on his knees after the battle. He hadn’t really needed to beg, as she said yes right away and jumped into the boy’s arms. Plans had begun for a wedding before Joyce and Buffy had to return to California and Joyce was going to use her seamstress skills to create the dress of Piper’s dreams. Buffy’s mother had employed Kyle to work on remodelling the house, surprised when he accepted, as she wasn’t sure if he’d ever want to see the place again after the terrible time he’d had there. But the lad had cheekily told Joyce he was true Yorkshire, born and bred, strong in ’t arm and good in bed. Buffy had nearly spat her tea out when he said that to her mother as Spike sniggered behind her.

Buffy spent most of her time with Spike, but in such close quarters and with her mother still anxious about her wellbeing, they had only managed a few stolen kisses and a little amorous dry humping. It was totally frustrating. Spike’s room was now right next to her mother’s, its windows blacked out with whitewash and thick curtains, so anything more was out of the question. Buffy couldn’t be certain whether the positioning of his room was for her mother to keep an eye on them both, or because she still wasn’t sure about Spike. Buffy hoped it was the former, as Spike had proved himself time and again. Once or twice Spike had suggested that they try using a room in the West Wing, his deep voice driving her crazy as he touched her anywhere he could without being caught, but Buffy had shuddered at the thought. She couldn’t stand making love in those rooms where so many awful things had happened.

Diablo had been sleeping on a makeshift bed at the end of Spike’s bed, making himself at home, his sweet nature only impeded by any wild animals he came across when he let out at night. Spike informed her that the dog would whine until he was allowed out and it did his head in. Diablo, it seemed, turned into a scarily good predator and could take down something twice his size if needs be, but strangely he would return immediately if Spike whistled through an open window, back to his old goofy puppy like self, his red eyes a softer pink when he returned home. He was fiercely protective of the household and had to be locked in a room whenever anyone new knocked on the door. The postman had once seen the dog and almost screamed in terror until Buffy told him the dog had a condition and he wouldn’t hurt him. Still, they’d had no mail in days. They knew keeping him was a risk, but Spike was certain he could train him and keep him under control, so Joyce allowed it, against her better judgement.

The lovers carried on grasping at whatever alone time they could manage, until the day Buffy’s mother decided she needed to travel to Manchester to speak to builders about repairing the holes in the main entrance and attic. Up until now, they’d managed to enter and exit the house through the back door via the kitchen, as Spike showed them there was an old set of servant’s stairs within the walls that led to the first floor.

Local archaeologists had begun to excavate the bones in the plague pit, ready to re-bury them in the cemetery at Father Michael’s church in town, overseen by the man himself. There had been a heavy police presence around the house in those first days after the Others were banished, mainly because of the murders in the town and the disappearance of John Moorland. Luckily, Father Michael and her mom had managed to explain the mess by saying the floor collapsed in the foyer and showed them the bones, also telling them subsidence had broken the window above the stairwell. Eventually they’d left to take up investigations elsewhere, but it had been a close call. Even father Michael very much doubted they’d have been able to explain what had really happened.

Spike had been complaining that the scar on his hand had been itching ever since the Saint had stepped out from the window. He’d told her the story of his mother when they were alone, and how she’d pressed her Saint Michael’s medallion onto his hand when he’d been first turned. Buffy pondered on this and, once a non-believer, she felt there could be more to religion than she’d first realised. Father Michael was so devout, it made her question herself on more than one occasion, as did the knowledge of the power she possessed. Somehow being normal and getting back to her old life was something that might prove more difficult than she’d first thought, and she made a mental note to research more on her gift when she had time. With so much time and energy spent on getting the house back in order, the rush of having those powers fell by the wayside in the days following the events.

Her mom planned to stay overnight in Manchester that night to do some shopping as well as attend her meeting, so wouldn’t be home until late the following night.

“Now, darling, I won’t leave you if you won’t be OK here alone. You know what happened last time.” She hugged Buffy and stroked her hair lovingly. “I know we’ve had a hard time of things here so far.” She chuckled. “My, isn’t that an understatement? We wouldn’t be here finishing the job ourselves if my head weren’t on the block with the movie company. I have to get this place ready in two weeks.”

Joyce had called the movie studios and told them about the plague pit below the house, informing them it had stopped work as it needed to be excavated and this could take weeks. This bought them some time with the clean-up and, luckily, most of the foundations of the house were still secure. Once the floorboards, doors in the west wing, and some ceilings had been replaced, a lot of the work was purely cosmetic, like the hole where the stained-glass window had been. Joyce and Spike had discussed the replacement and agreed it should be put back as it was, so she had a specialist coming in a few days.

“Mom, its fine, there’s no need to worry about me. I have Spike and Diablo here, plus Piper and Kyle are here every day,” Buffy insisted.

“You know, sweetie, at any other time, if you told me I’d be leaving my daughter in the protection of a vampire and a vampire dog, I’d freak out, but I know either would die for you, my darling.” Joyce caressed her daughter’s cheek and laid a kiss on her forehead.

A shadow crossed Buffy’s face and Joyce knew what she’d been thinking. It was clear her daughter was deeply in love with Spike, and her heart would break to leave him here. They still hadn’t figured out a way to release Spike from the curse. There hadn’t been much time, but she’d asked Father Michael to find someone who might be able to help. He had new connections in Rome now, and someone must know how to break a curse.

She drew Buffy into a hug. “I know you don’t want to leave Spike, honey, I know. We’ll find a way,” she promised, hugging her daughter tighter before she picked up her overnight bag and left.

Joyce turned towards the house and closed her eyes before she got into her car. “Protect her. I’m counting on you to keep her safe,” she whispered, seeing Spike in her mind’s eye. She couldn’t be blamed for feeling the way she did following the worst nightmare of her life, and she wished her mother was there to tell her what to do now. Joyce was so lost without her.

……..

Buffy waved her mother off and balanced precariously on the planks laid over the hole in the foyer, weaving in and out of the scaffolding the archaeologists had been using. They’d left early today as it was Friday—as had Piper and Kyle—leaving only her, Spike, and Diablo in the house.

Once she was back on the secured floor of the lounge, she looked for Spike, finding him inside the secret room.

She leaned on the doorway watching as Spike pulled out one piece of paperwork and threw it to the side before peering closely at the next. He knew she was standing there. Didn’t he always?

“This is bloody useless! I can’t believe Lizzie would’ve left this stuff for me if the answer wasn’t here somewhere!” he said irritably, taking a swig from a bottle of whiskey her mother had brought home from her last grocery run.

“She tried. You know she told you she didn’t have the answer. We’ll find something, baby, you know we will. I won’t leave you here.” She moved to him. His back was tense as she reached for him.

“You keep tellin’ me that, pet!” He moved out of her grasp. “But I just think you’re payin’ me lip service. You know I’m stuck here. Fuck, even the soddin’ spooks have gotten out of the house! But not old Spikey, oh no, he’ll stay here until the end of time!” he ranted, striding up and down the small space bottle in hand, while running his fingers crankily through his mussed hair. “I don’t think any of you get it! What it’s like to be stuck in the place forever, livin’ like I don’t exist! I can’t! I can’t go back to that, I’d rather dust. I’d rather soddin’ well dust!”

With that, he threw the half empty bottle against the wall, smashing it, and showering the stone walls and papers in alcohol.

Buffy wasn’t afraid, but she let out a squeak of shock at the loud crash.

When he turned, there was something unreadable in his eyes; fear, lust, she couldn’t be sure exactly. He was complex, and he had a long past she could never be part of, but one thing she was sure of was that he laid himself bare to her, he loved her, and he would give his life to keep her safe. He was just blowing off steam, but his anger made her hotter than hell.

….

His girl’s chest was rising and falling rapidly as she stared at him in shock. He never wanted to make her feel afraid of him, but he was just so damn angry with the situation he’d found himself in.

Striding forward, Spike stood inches away from her, his chest mimicking hers even though breathing was of no use to him. “Princess, I’m s–”

Startled, he almost fell back as she launched herself into his arms, climbing him like a tree, wrapping her legs around his waist, nuzzling his neck and peppering his face with kisses.

“It’s OK, you’re mad, I get it. I’m terrified too, so scared I might never see you again once I leave here. I need you, I need you so much,” she babbled breathlessly, continuing her assault with her lips.

“Buffy, oh, god, my Buffy.” He pushed her back against the wall, grinding into her molten core, hooking the thighs of her silky bronzed legs in the crook of each arm. The feelings this girl drew out in him were exquisite, and he was ever in awe of the fact she was in love with him. Him. A vampire who didn’t deserve her love, who couldn’t be everything a girl like her might need, but so very grateful she’d chosen him nonetheless. He thought he might dust, he loved her so much.

She mewled as he kissed her, gently at first, but then hungrily, his tongue dipping into her mouth and massaging hers with wanton promises of what he could do to her. It had been so long since he could freely touch her with no one in the house, and he let his hands wander liberally, running flat palms over the delicate skin of her lower back, down to cup her sweet bum and pull her closer.

“Fuck, kitten, I want you so much it’s killin’ me,” he gasped, releasing the catch of her bra and sliding his hands over her ribcage, causing the wide spread of goose bumps and a delectable shiver from Buffy. It had been far too long since they’d been able to enjoy any real intimacy.

“No, not here,” she said, dropping her legs to the floor and sliding down his body.

“No?” He raised an eyebrow, disappointment rushing though his gut.

“No, I want some privacy for what I have in mind for you.” She gave him a red-hot stare, which almost made him blush, and he didn’t scare easily.

“Is that so?” He ran his hands from her shoulders to her breasts, thumbing her diamond hard nipples through her light cotton blouse.

“Yes, Mister, uh…” She inhaled deeply, as if trying to garner some courage. “We’re going to your room.”

“Right. Anything you want, kitten,” Spike declared, whisking her up into his arms and carrying her through the lounge, over the boards in the foyer and through the maze of supports, to the grand staircase, then taking them two at a time as she shrieked with laughter.

“No! No! You’re gonna drop me!” she screamed, her voice echoing around the empty foyer as she kicked her legs.

“I feel bloody insulted,” he chuckled. “I’d never drop my woman. Got things I wanna do to her. Things that she’s never dreamed of.”

Spike gave her a smouldering look that made her heart beat rapidly and her pussy ache. She lifted a hand, softly running her fingers over his lower lip. “You know I love you, Spike.”

He stopped by his bedroom door, taking one of her hands in his own before kissing her knuckles. “I love you too, Buffy. Forever.”

His eyes were so filled with love she thought she might burst. “Forever,” she murmured in reply, not taking her eyes off his.

Spike kicked open the door and carried her wedding style over the threshold. “Oh, wow! When did you do this, pet?” He set her down on the bed, which had been changed to a new coverlet, one of gold brocade with matching scatter cushions, over the bed trailed long lengths of white and gold organza, creating a fairy tale design. The bed was covered in pink rose petals, and Spike picked up a couple and smelled them. He hadn’t smelled anything so fresh from outside in years.

“It’s too much,” she said, looking glumly at her hands.

“Oh, no, love, it’s just perfect. Every girl’s first time should be special. I would’ve done this for you if I could. Where did you get it?”

“Mom has a fabric stash we take everywhere. I spent the morning running them up on the sewing machine while you were in the secret room researching.” She grinned as he fingered the organza.

…..

“Nobody’s ever done something like this for me.” Spike dropped to his knees before her, taking both hands in his and kissing her fingertips. “You are something else, Buffy. You mean everything to me.” He took one of her pointer fingers and nipped it before sucking it into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the tip and relishing in Buffy’s wide-eyed look.

She bit the corner of her lip in the way that made him hard. God, she was beautiful— flushed and needy, wanting to experience all the things he’d promised. He would take it slowly and drive her crazy until she became delirious.

“Spike…” she cooed as she removed her finger and his lips drifted the length of her arm, slavering his tongue over her delicious pulse points and not stopping until he reached her neck.

Clutching his shoulders until her fingers were white, she cried out as he made his slow decent to her nipples, suckling them through the white cotton of her top as he gently pulled her bra to her waist.

He stopped for only a few seconds to remove his tee, revealing his taut abs. He groaned as she ran her fingers from his chest to his stomach, nimble fingers exploring each peak and trough.

She scooted back on the bed a little, urged by him as he pushed her top away to reveal her the smooth expanse of skin below her breasts, kissing and nipping his way down to the waistband of her jeans, pausing momentarily to lathe her belly button with his tongue before moving further down.

Buffy arched her back as his lips met her lower stomach and his rough hands caressed the skin of her hips.

Never had the sense of anticipation been so strong. Their quick fumble under the staircase and in the shower had nothing on this, for this was the real thing. He was going to make love to her, and the prospect lit his body up like a whole sky full of stars.

He popped the button on her jeans and slid them away tenderly. He began an assault on her ankles and kissed his way torturously up her legs, stopping to tickle behind her knees with the tip of his tongue before swirling his tongue up the inside of first one thigh and then the other. Buffy quaked under his ministrations, sucking her lower lip inside her mouth to hold in a moan.

Spike could see she’d worn her best Victoria’s Secret panties: white with bows tied on each side. His fingers shook as he pulled the ribbons away delicately, revealing her gorgeous quim, almost bare but for a strip of fine downy hair on her mons. It glistened with sweet juices and his mouth watered at the sight. She’d stopped moving, rising from the bed, propped on her elbows as she watched him.

“You’re gorgeous, love. So fucking beautiful.” And with that, he licked her from back to front, tickling her clit with the very tip of his lengthy tongue. She fell back, unable to support herself as he circled a figure of eight on her nubbin, using his forefinger to caress her tight opening.

“Oh, Spike, oh, s-shit!” she stammered. “So good, oh, my g– so good.”

Buffy’s moans made him hard as nails, like everything she did, but this was magnificent. She writhed under him, beginning to buck as he carefully pushed his finger deep inside. She was so tight, but that was to be expected. She’d been chaste until now, but that was to change as he circled his finger inside her, seeking out her sweetest spot. He knew he’d hit the jackpot when she launched her hips from the bed, her hands fisted in the duvet. He used his other hand to push her down, opening her labia and entering another finger as he continued his assault on her sweet puss. She came, howling, her hips rolling as she milked every last smidgeon of pleasure, her tight core strangling his fingers as he felt her throb.

Buffy had barely recovered before she was on her knees kissing him desperately, not caring that he tasted of her own juices, and pulling him onto the bed on top of her.

She slung her leg over his, battling to undo his belt and jeans as the fervour between them became more passionate and urgent. She pulled his belt away and began to pull down his jeans, struggling with his boots. Her bottom wiggled in the air, giving Spike a truly delectable sight. He moved his upper body, grabbing for her hips and pulled her back to his face, delving his tongue inside her once more.

Buffy moaned, but then tutted with a wicked grin, “Naughty, I wanna see you, explore you. Spike, let me, please?”

What else could he say, when asked so politely? “Explore away, love,” he chuckled with a raised eyebrow.

She began on her knees by his chest, her hair sweeping over his body as she lowered her face to circle his nipple with her tongue. Spike clutched at the bed sheets and hissed as she lightly pinched his other nipple. She’d soon learn this was his kryptonite. Learns fast this one, he thought, gulping as he felt her tongue roll over his abs, relishing the stark contrast of her warm breasts pressed against the room temperature coolness of his skin.

“You don’t wear the boxers I got you?” She lifted her head in question as she reached his lower belly.

“Uh, no? Err, I just never have before, so I sort of forgot.” He winked.

“You’re a bad boy, Spike.” God, just those words made him so horny. She bit her lip and lowered her head, her tongue tickling his lower belly before running her fingers through the dark, silky hair at the apex of his thighs. She was teasing him so much his cock stood proudly to attention and twitched as her fingers reached its vicinity. She was going to kill him, he was sure of that already, and they hadn’t even gotten to the main show.

His cock twitched, and she lay her head on his belly, reaching out to touch the swollen purple tip. She lifted her head and giggled as his cock stirred again.

“Probably not the best time to giggle, when you’ve got a bloke’s willy exposed, kitten. Give a guy a complex, it would.” He smirked.

“It moved! On its own!” She laughed delightedly.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “It has magical powers,” he teased. “I’ll show you them soon enough.”

She went back to her exploration, and he watched as she tentatively touched the tip with her tongue, his eyes almost rolling back in their sockets.

Buffy wasn’t totally inexperienced and had gone to third base on many occasions. Spike knew this through the stolen conversations they’d had over the past few days, but this was the first time she’d been able to play, he already knew that. She lapped at the spot she knew was the most sensitive before placing the head in her mouth and suckling the tip.

Spike couldn’t help but grasp her hair, wrapping it around his fist and watching in wonder as she took more of him back into her throat. “Fuck, Buffy, your mouth…so hot, so…s-shit.” He stopped her as she began to bob her head. “Sweetheart, there’ll be plenty of time for that later. I want to be inside you, if you’ll let me?” He kissed her again and drew back, awaiting her answer.

“Yes, I want you inside me. I want you to make love to me. I love you so much.”

Spike didn’t need to be told twice. He rolled her back onto the bed and kissed her deeply, his fingers massaging her clit until he sensed her heart begin to race again; she was close. Lining up with her entrance, he readied himself for the right time. She was panting and moaning below him, their bodies flush, skin on skin, her legs wrapped around him. As she crested, he pushed inside gently, allowing her to adjust as her orgasm raced through her with a cry of pleasure.

…….

Snapped back to reality, Buffy felt a pain unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Once the initial shock abated, she stilled and clutched Spike tighter. A moment ago, there had been extreme leg shaking pleasure, and now she felt the fullness of him being inside her, in a place that had never been filled before.

He stopped once his full length was inside, desperate not to hurt her any more than was necessary. “Sweetheart? Are you alright?” he whispered, stroking her damp hair from her forehead. “It’ll only hurt for a moment. Just relax, I won’t move until you’re ready.” He soothed her with his voice, telling her he loved her and how beautiful she was.

“I-I think I’m OK now, you can move.” She took his face between both hands and kissed him sweetly, “Thank you for caring so much.”

He ran his thumb over her cheek, “I love you.” And with that he began to move his hips in small circles.

At first the pain remained, although not as bad as at first, then the friction of Spike’s careful strokes, began to rebuild pressure in her core. He was hitting something on the downstroke which sent delicious tingles throughout her body. This was different from foreplay—the very feel of him inside her, his hard body surrounding her, his muscles flexing against her set her body on fire. She wasn’t sure where he began, and she ended. There was a ripple deep inside her; it built by the second and then she couldn’t get enough of him. She began to grasp at his back, scratching him with her fingernails. Her thighs clenched as she pulled him in deeper and deeper, his moans of pleasure feeding something primal deep within her.

“Spike, faster, I need it faster,” she begged.

Happy to oblige, Spike moved faster, arching his back to pull her closer and plundering her depths with the steel of his prick. Buffy was panting against his neck, hanging on for dear life as he shagged her brains out, as per her request.

For him it had never been like this. A virgin when he was turned, with an unfocused crazy sire who cared little for his feelings that first time, it had been somewhat unfulfilling. Then after that, used and abused by Angelus and Darla, he’d learned it could be pleasurable, but nothing like this. Now, Buffy moved with him like they belonged together. His very own piece of heaven here on earth, clutching him, demanding more was almost like a re-birth for him—like his first time over again, this time with such meaning he thought he might sob. And then his girl was flying, her orgasm so intense he could feel it strangling his cock. He carried on as she screamed his name in release, following her as he allowed himself to let loose, sure his lady was first, just as it should be.

“Buffy, oh, fucking hell, I love you!” He roared his release, one hundred and twenty-six years of pent up frustration flooding his body as he nearly whited out with pleasure. Every muscle clenched to the point of pain before going limp, his fangs lowered, and he fell forward with his face in her neck. He panted, taking in the scent of her pheromones and lapping idly at the sweat pooling above her carotid artery. He squeezed his eyes closed and beat back the demon inside, the demon who wanted to sup on her blood, and had only been allowed so far to the fore because he’d lost control. He would never allow it so close again.

He pushed his upper body up on his hands and kissed his girl. “I don’t care what it takes, I want to be with you and nothing in the world is gonna stop me.”

“Nothing in the world is going to stop us,” Buffy sighed, happily satiated, not noticing Spike’s battle with his demon. “We’re an unstoppable team now. I love you so much.” She pulled him closer again, hugging him to her breast.

Happiness was not even the word that came to mind as Spike lay with his woman after making love to her for the very first time. He wanted to yell from the rooftops how much he loved her. And he knew one day he would. He’d get out of this stinking fucking house and he’d live —whether he was undead or not. He’d travel the world with her and do all those things he’d dreamed of during his incarceration, and they’d do everything she dreamed of too, together.

Both dozed for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, blissed out and exhausted.

At sunset someone called from the foyer down below. It was Father Michael.

“Shit, Spike, he can’t catch us like this. He’ll tell mom!”

“Buffy, sweet, you’re nineteen years old and you have a boyfriend who is over one hundred. Do you really think she’d be surprised to find out we’d slept together?” Spike said, grabbing her hand and spinning her into a twirl, appreciating her naked body from all angles with a loud, giddy sigh.

Buffy giggled, “I suppose not, but I’d rather she found out from me, not from our good friend, the priest.”

“Good point, kitten, let’s get down there.” He scrambled around, looking for his jeans and then watching as Buffy as she redressed. “I’m taking those right off again after he leaves though!” Spike grinned saucily, capturing one last heated kiss before they headed to the stairwell, hand in hand and barefooted.

Father Michael was balanced precariously on a wooden beam and the person behind him was hiding behind a scaffolding tower, terrified as Diablo growled at them.

“Ah, there you are! I thought no one was home. Good to see you both again.” The priest smiled jovially. “Err, could you call off the dog? He’s taken a disliking to our guest.”

Spike let out a whistle and Diablo sprinted up the stairs to his side. Spike petted his head and tickled his ear absently. “Stupid mutt.”

The priest moved forward to reveal the guest he spoke of, an elderly lady, looking to be in her eighties, dressed in a nun’s habit, with soulful brown eyes, weathered olive skin, and a kindly face. Buffy and Spike treaded softly down the steps to meet them.

“I think we may have an answer to your problem.” The priest held out his hand to help the lady forward over the planks. “You see, Mary Michael here is a nun of St. Saviours, and I don’t think you’ll believe it, Spike, but she’s the daughter of the woman who gave you the curse.”


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You probably thought my ending would be just tidying up loose ends? Well, I can tell you it's a little more than that. We have another twist before the final ending and I really do hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> I must take a moment to give thanks to the truly fabulous OffYourBird, who picked up this fic when it had no beta, plus, I must thank the lovely purrmonster who saw me through the first part of the story as beta and Ceruleansoul, who helped beta some chapters too.

**Present day – The House**

Spike looked wide-eyed at Buffy. Now that the answer to his problem had presented itself, he found he was terrified, afraid to hope that this person could help him walk out of this house, the place of his long incarceration.

Buffy pulled him forward and his legs felt wooden, each step a chore.

“Shall we move to the kitchen? It’s a little more comfortable. We can have some tea and I’m sure we can find some cookies,” Buffy said, startling Spike who was lost in his own thoughts. His demon huddled in the far recess of his mind, whining as it felt anxiety twist in the vampire’s gut.

He cleared his throat before thrusting out his hand to the elderly woman. “I’m so glad you came, sister, err, sister…”

“Sister Mary Michael,” the kindly nun said, taking his hand gently. “I’m pleased to finally meet you.”

“Please, take a seat,” Buffy said, pulling out a chair at the dining table for Sister Mary.

Father Michael chatted amiably, helping Buffy with the tea. Spike was almost silent, nodding in the right places, but he was looking at the nun, trying to suss out why a woman like her would even try to help a creature such as he. He guessed the Father had filled her in on the situation. She was a woman of god, she had taken holy orders and lived to serve her god. He was a supernatural being, considered evil by most and certainly not someone who deserved her assistance.

“Spike?” He looked up, and Buffy was giving him an odd look. She placed tea in front of him. He didn’t want to drink it, but he picked up the cup nonetheless and sipped it, grateful to have something to do with his slightly tremoring hands.

Everyone was staring at him as if they were waiting for him to say something.  Eventually, Father Michael broke the silence and began his explanation of why they were here.

“Now, I spoke with Sister Mary Michael as she’s been in the convent just outside town since she was fifteen. She’s tended to the helpless in this area for over sixty years. I just wondered if she might know of the travellers who came to this area. I knew her convent did a lot of mission work and delivered healthcare to the community.”

“Yes,” Sister Mary began, “it didn’t take long for us to work out we were talking about the same people, purely because the gypsies he was describing were my parents. You see, the family was devoutly Catholic and I knew I’d wanted to take holy orders ever since I was a child. It just so happened I entered the convent here in Yorkshire on my fifteenth birthday, as it could just as easily have been anywhere else in the country and you may never have found me.”

“Thank you so much for coming, sister, I think Spike’s a bit dumbstruck. You see, we never thought we’d find a way to break the curse and now here you are,” Buffy said, glancing worriedly at Spike, taking hold of his hand and lacing her fingers through his.

“Ah, well, technically, it isn’t going to be me who breaks the curse. I can help you, but the Father has already told me of the gifts you possess, Buffy. Essentially, it will be you who’ll be doing the work. I’m just here in an advisory capacity, dear.”

“Me?” Buffy squeaked.

“No. I don’t want Buffy doin’ anything that’ll put her in danger,” Spike eventually spoke, firmly.

“You both want Spike to leave this house, don’t you?” The nun took hold of Buffy’s free hand in her own. “This is the only way,” she added, her voice serious.

“Look, it’s not that I’m not grateful that you came down here to help, Sister, but Buffy’s had a bad time of things over the past week. She’s exhausted, and I don’t know if she has the strength for anything else.” He was rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.

“Spike, what are you talking about? Of course I’ll do it, I’d do anything to help you. Do you want to stay here forever?” Buffy snapped.

He didn’t blame her, he was being stupid, he should just accept the help, but terror of leaving the house seemed to take over, and he wondered if he had a form of agoraphobia. He’d wanted to leave for so long; now that it could be imminent, he was panic-stricken.

“No, of course I don’t, pet. I just worry about you.”

“There’s nothing to worry about.” She kissed his cheek sweetly. “Now, tell me what I need to do,” Buffy said as she turned her attention to Sister Mary.

He didn’t believe her. He’d seen her strength and the power she possessed, but he knew there must be some danger involved, or the nun wouldn’t be so serious.

…………..

Buffy was beginning to wonder if Spike’s unexpected hesitation had been justified, now that she knew what she’d need to do. She felt as petrified as he had only moments before, but she wouldn’t show him, because getting him out of this house was the most important thing right now.

Sister Mary was talking, and Buffy hadn’t been listening. Yep, she’d definitely missed something.

“So, she’d have to travel alone to this place–this purgatory?” Spike asked.

_Yikes_ , Buffy thought, _this does not sound of the good._

“Yes, I can help her with the right spells and ingredients, but she will need to cross over and speak to my mother, to ask her forgiveness and ask her to break the spell. I can’t go with her, or in her stead,” Sister Mary informed him.

“No, absolutely not! I’ll take my chances here. I’ll find some way to break it if it kills me!” Spike stood, startling Buffy when his voice rose.

“Spike, Buffy, this is all we’ve got,” Father Michael said gently. “You know I’ve tried other avenues and come up with nowt. You must leave this house within the month or Spike will be stuck here, possibly forever. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get to him to bring any blood to him. He’ll be back to square one.”

“I’ll do it,” Buffy said decidedly. She’d do anything for Spike, even if it meant she endangered herself.

“No, pet, please.”

“I'll do it,” Buffy said, ignoring Spike’s plea, sliding onto his lap and cradling his head against her shoulder, “I’ll do it because being without you is unthinkable.”

“But you haven’t thought this out…” Spike shook his head.

“What’s there to think about? I love you and I’d die if I didn’t do everything I could to save you from being trapped here forever. I don’t have the money to buy this place, so I have to get you out, don’t you understand?”

“Look, we’ll leave you here to talk about it, and we can come back tomorrow,” Father Michael said, standing up to leave.

“No! Tonight,” Buffy said resolutely. “We’ll do this tonight while my mom’s away. I know she’ll only try to talk me out of this.”

“ _I_ bloody want to talk you out of this!” Spike said bitterly.

“Please come back at sunset.” Buffy took hold of the nun’s hand. “And I’d be grateful if you would bring whatever we need. I’ll be ready.”

Father Michael pulled Spike to one side. “Don’t worry about her, Spike. I trust Sister Mary. She’s a well-respected member of the convent and she only wants to help. She doesn’t agree with witchcraft and sorcery; she told me she saw her mother perform enough of it as a child–she thinks it’s the devil’s work. It took some convincing to help you because, at first, she wasn’t truly sure she wanted to help an undead bloke.”

“Looks like I have no choice, mate, my girl’s made her mind up,” Spike said irritably.

“I’ll be here to help, I’ll bring a bottle of whiskey, it’ll calm your nerves.” He clapped Spike on the shoulder as they left.

………..

Spike was yelling at her again.

“Absolutely, soddin’ well not!” he yelled, thumping up the stairs after the holy folk had left.

“This isn’t your choice, Spike! It’s mine, and I’m damn well doing it!” Buffy retaliated, giving as good as she got.

Spike paused, realising he was sounding more like his Grandsire than he’d care to admit. He’d never treat his woman like that bastard, he’d just lost his temper. His anger deflated, and he held his hands open, pleading with her. “I’m here to protect you, I can’t just tell you I think it’s fine for you to travel to god knows where on your own. I hate all that mumbo jumbo, you know I do!”

“You’re my boyfriend, Spike, not my damn father, and I’ve made up my mind!” she yelled back. They stood face to face, neither wanting to back down. “I don’t want to see you right now!” Buffy huffed, slamming the door to the nursery behind her and locking it, before sitting down heavily, her hand on her chest as she tried to hold the pain of their quarrelling inside.

This was their first ever argument and tears spilled from her eyes. She didn’t want to fight with him, but she was doing this, and he would not change her mind.

Spike banged on the door. “Please open this bloody door, I don’t wanna fight with you!”

“I will not! Go away, I’m really mad with you!” she sobbed.

There was a loud crash and the door came off its hinges, making her jump.

“Please,” Spike strode over, falling to his knees before her. “Please, don’t fight with me over this, princess, I can’t lose you.” He laid his head on her belly, wrapping his arms around her. She relaxed, the raging ball of anger in her stomach and the anguish in her chest abating. She made up her mind not to fight with Spike in the future if she could help it, they were both too stubborn for it not to all end in tears, and fighting with him was horrible, she felt terrible over their cross words. Plus, her mom was going to kill the pair of them about the door being broken when she’d just spent a ton of money fixing the house up.

She smoothed his hair, wiping away a tear which landed on her hand. She noticed it needed cutting again. It had grown quickly, and the dark roots were coming through, but she would see about that tomorrow.

Sighing, she again said no, but more gently this time. “I’m doing it for us,” she murmured, tilting his face up so she could see his face better and caressed his cheekbones. His cerulean eyes were filled with worry, and she totally got it, he was terrified of losing her. “You know, I’m scared of losing you, too, that’s why I have to do this.”

He let out a long sigh, getting to his feet and taking her into his arms. “I can see you’re going to be soddin’ stubborn about this, so If you’re going to do it, I want every part of you until then. Come back to bed, sweetheart.” He lifted her hand and kissed the pulse point on the inside of her wrist.

She laughed and threw herself into his arms, the storm in a teacup long forgotten when he took her to his room to make love to her.

……….

Father Michael and Sister Mary returned at sundown, as they said they would, and found Spike and Buffy in the kitchen. Diablo came out to sniff them but no longer considered the Sister a threat; she wasn’t a stranger this time. He sniffed around them both until Spike ordered him to go up to his bed. Diablo shot Spike a haughty look but followed his orders.

“Sorry about him, he’s too blood nosey for his own good,” Spike said, releasing Buffy’s hand as she walked towards Sister Mary and looked inside the basket the nun was carrying.

“There doesn’t seem much in your basket for a spell?” Buffy noted.

“We don’t need much, dear. You are the one who holds the power to cross over and meet my mother, or so I’ve been told.” Sister Mary looked to Father Michael, who nodded in agreement.

Spike stood rigid before Sister Mary. “I need to know something before we continue.” The sister turned and gave him her full attention. “I need to know why you’d help one such as I, when my grandsire murdered your mother?”

“Spike, may I call you Spike?” Mary took his hands in hers, much to his surprise. “It wasn’t you who killed my mother,” she said, her eyes filled with compassion.

“But I’m…bloody hell, I’m a vampire, didn’t holy Joe tell you?”

She looked thoughtful and then squeezed his cool hands in her warm ones. “But, Spike, the Father told me how you helped them rid the house of the evil vampires, helped banish the Others and saved his life more than once. In my life I’ve helped many people, some who could be considered eviller than you, and they were human. It’s my calling to help those in need, and you are in need, are you not?”

Spike lowered his head, staring at their joined hands and feeling humbled by her words. “I’m in need. Thank you.” He looked up as she turned his hand over and saw the scar from his mother’s Saint Michael’s medallion.

“Someone cared for you very much to give you this scar, it has protected you through your time amongst the undead,” she pointed out, tracing bony fingers over the scar tissue.

“My mother, she gave me that scar the night I was turned,” he admitted to the holy woman.

“She must’ve been a good woman,” Sister Mary suggested.

“Yeah. Yeah, she was,” Spike said breathily. His mother had once been everything to him, and he missed her so very much.

Father Michael clapped Spike on the back and began to talk to Buffy. “Buffy, I need to you sit down and allow me to explain something Grace talked to me about, something that’s very important regarding what we’re about to do tonight.” The priest ushered Buffy to sit at the table before reaching out to take her hand. “Your grandmother had power of her own. While she was alive, she was able to commune with the dead, she told me they bothered her as her mind was open to them and they hadn’t fully crossed over. She said they had something they needed to resolve in their lives. She told me she knew your power was far greater than her own.” He paused, and Buffy nodded. “Buffy, she said sometimes good people remained in a kind of limbo, awaiting an opportunity to make amends before they moved on.”

“Like purgatory? Sister mentioned it earlier.”

“Exactly. We in the church say those ultimately destined for heaven must first undergo purification, to achieve the holiness necessary to enter the joy of heaven. I like to think of it as God’s waiting room.” The father chuckled.

“OK, so what did ole Grace say about this place?” Spike interjected. He was hovering by Buffy, but he couldn’t seem to stand still.

Father Michael gave Spike a look of sympathy and continued, “Grace said the spirits came to her, asking for her help to resolve things, they could be as simple as telling someone they loved them when they had been taken out of their lives suddenly, or they might want to tell someone where the deeds to the house were. She couldn’t give me a definitive answer as to why they came to her, or why they were stranded, only that they described a place of waiting, a place where they knew they had to resolve matters.”

“The problem is, Buffy, dear, we can’t be certain my mother is there,” Sister Mary said honestly. “All we know is that she would probably have unresolved issues. She was a good person, but for her to curse others was against the Roman Catholic religion she followed. The Father and I agree, it was unlikely to get her sent to hell, but it is likely she may be waiting in this place to make amends. The only way to find out is for us to help you make contact.”

“You lot are off your bird if you think Buffy’s crossing over anywhere when we don’t even know the bloody old crone will be there!” Spike snapped. He was at the point of asking them to leave and putting up with the consequences, just so Buffy wouldn’t be hurt.

Buffy rose and snaked her arms around his waist, laying her head on his chest. “Spike, I love you, but this isn’t your decision to make.”

Spike began to protest, and she felt a growl growing in his chest, “I couldn’t stand it if somethin’ happened to you, pet. Please don’t.”

She placed a finger over his lips. “I need your support when I go on this quest and I want you here waiting for me when I return, but if you can’t support me, then I suggest you go to your room and wait there with Diablo.” Her eyes were loving but her demeanour stern.

Spike almost laughed hysterically. His girl was already ordering him around, sending him off to bed with the sodding dog. He liked this side of her, truth be told. He just didn’t like the thought of her doing something so dangerous. Magic had been the bane of his life and he didn’t want anything to do with it, but he would, for her.

It was like she’d read his thoughts when she asked, “What will happen to me?”

Sister Mary moved forward and gave her the book she had in her old wicker basket. “There’s a spell. I’ve marked the page. The Father and I can stay, but we cannot be involved. You must say the words, and it’s likely you may cross over in spirit rather than bodily. We will set a thirty-minute sand timer and you must return before the last grain of sand enters the bottom. If you don’t, then we can’t be sure what will happen.”

Spike rubbed his hair roughly with both hands, stalking away before returning and giving Buffy a pleading look, his whole body taut with tension.

Buffy ignored him and opened the page of the book, reading the words and looking at the other contents of the basket: three church candles and some sage. It didn’t seem like much.

“I thought we’d do the spell in the nursery, it’s the most well protected place in the house and you’ll be comfortable there, Buffy. Are you ready?” Father Michael reached out to pat Buffy’s hand.

“As I’ll ever be,” Buffy replied.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is folks, the end of the line. Thank you all so much for reading and following this story. I believe I said everything I needed to say when I posted chapter 40. So I will just thank OffYourBird for all her hard work (it has been an absolute pleasure to work with her on this fic) and let you get to the finale.
> 
> Here is a link to the Romany language I’ve used: https://www.larp.com/jahavra/language.html

Buffy opened the book, reading the simple words and trying to bring her power to the fore, just as her grandmother had taught her.

Spike was afraid for her, and truthfully, she was afraid for herself too. If Grace were here, she’d have some words of wisdom, or she’d be helping Buffy with her breathing, showing her how to do this. But Grace wasn’t here, and tears filled Buffy’s eyes at the reminder she would never be again.

Father Michael and Sister Mary lit the candles and walked around spreading the smoke of the ignited sage before they knelt at her side and began to pray, holding their rosary beads and muttering incantations.

Spike moved closer and kissed her face as she lay down on her bed before kissing her eyes, her nose, and her lips, all the while gripping her hands tightly.

“I’ll be here for you, whatever happens, pet. I’m sorry about earlier, but I’m afraid for you. I’d never want you to feel I wouldn’t support you, I just want you back here, safe an’ in my arms. I want you forever, sweetheart, always remember that. Find your way back to me, and don’t you stay a minute longer than the time you’ve been given, even if you can’t do it. Just come back to me, I’ll be waitin’ right here.”

“I will,” she whispered, holding him close for a moment.

She turned over the sand timer on her nightstand and began reciting the spell, “To those beyond the veil, allow me passage within. Allow me passage to commune with those from whom I seek knowledge. Allow my soul to commune with your soul, my intensions are pure. Allow me time, I give my time to you.”

Buffy focused on her power, using the teachings of her grandmother to absorb her energy and project it. Her head felt strange; she was fighting against sleep and she tried to shake it off before her vision began to waver into a tunnel. She continued to recite the words and her own voice began to sound hollow, like her mouth was far away in the distance. She was floating.

She began spinning at a slow pace, her body left far behind, oddly discombobulated as she moved towards a wall of mist, or fog. She heard mutterings behind it and couldn’t help but feel fear, not sure if she should cross, but then she heard the sound of singing, almost like a holy choir. She allowed herself to relax and go with the flow, entering the fog. There was no looking back now, she was on her way to her destination.

~~~xxx~~~

Buffy was still. She was breathing, but her heart rate was lower and she eyes didn’t flicker in the usual way they did while she was asleep.

The holy folk were petitioning their god, and he was left alone, pacing and awaiting her return.

Diablo cried at the door and Spike allowed him to come in, watching as he sniffed Buffy’s feet and whined, his eyes on Spike’s, as if trying to tell his master something he already knew. The hound moved to his side, pushing his nose into Spike’s hand and snuffling, before heading back to the bed, jumping up and curling himself at Buffy’s feet, a look of distress in his eyes.

Spike wished he could do the same, cuddle up with her and keep her safe, but instead he bit his lip and strode the window, peering out into the darkness which had now descended. It was as cold an autumn night as he’d ever seen in the Yorkshire house, crystals of ice clinging to the edges of the window and frost enveloping the ground, creeping over the heathers dappling the valley.

Joyce had decided to rename the house Lovers Reach, and only that morning she’d mentioned she’d bring back a plaque to attach to the door. She wanted this valley to become more than some urban legend. She told him she wanted to show how pure and untarnished the house and valley now were. He knew Joyce would be off her gourd if she found out what was happening in the house that night. He knew how she’d tried to forget the power she had, and how she would hate this, just as he did.

He feared for Buffy’s soul, not just her body, and he couldn’t rest until she was back in his arms.

~~~xxx~~~

She was blind. All Buffy could see was darkness once she’d entered the fog. She could hear cries asking for help but she moved, seeking out her purpose, until eventually she felt like she’d landed on her feet. Her vision cleared, and she found herself before a gypsy caravan surrounded by fog, with murky lights coming from inside as she landed a few feet from the door.

Unsure what to do next, she lifted her hand and knocked, waiting for an answer. The door opened, revealing a gloomy glow inside, like the fog had filtered through every part of the caravan.

“Hello?” she asked, hearing her voice echo.

“You may enter girl, if you have love for my services. I am a Drabarni, a fortune teller. Kas zhanes— _who do you know_?”

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean,” Buffy said, stepping carefully inside the dwelling. The old crone was exactly as she’d expected: her skin was rugged from living the life of a rover, she was wearing turn of the century ragged brown skirts, and had a burgundy scarf wrapped around her head which had seen better days.

“Are you a ghost? Do you bring death? I’ve already been killed; you cannot kill me again.”

“I’m not any of those things, I’m here to beg your forgiveness,” Buffy said, taking a seat by the fire in a chair opposite the old woman.

The hag leaned closer, searching Buffy’s eyes. “Ah, you’re a Mule-vi—you reach the world of the dead. But you don’t speak Romane. Why are you here?”

“You cursed a man before you died.”

The woman nodded. “A filthy Shilmulo, a dead walker,” she agreed.

“He didn’t kill you, he didn’t harm anyone, but he’s still trapped where you cursed him.”

The gypsy woman eyed her, moving closer. “Yes, I cursed the boy, the beautiful one. He was to be trapped until he resigned himself to his fate, or found true love’s kiss, as I remember. I took pity on him, his sire wanted him trapped forever.”

“He could never resign himself to his fate. He’s fought so hard to stay with me, I don’t think he’d ever let me walk away without dusting himself. He would never believe I would return if I left him,” Buffy said, clutching at the cold, dead hand of the woman desperately.

“Then he shall never have slobuzenja,” the gypsy informed her. “ _Freedom_.”

“But you can break the curse, you’re here because you have unfinished business. If you break the curse, you can enter heaven.” Buffy squeezed harder, “Please, you must.”

Sister Mary’s mother pulled her hands free and sat back in her chair, staring at the fire. “I can free him on one condition: you must return me to earth to live out my life. You have this power, I feel it within you. How else could you be here?”

Buffy opened her mouth in shock. Did she have the power to do that? And even if she did, would she? This person no longer belonged on earth, she was a spirit waiting to pass over, she was no longer a human being.

“I c-can’t do that,” Buffy said quietly, awaiting the backlash she knew was sure to come.

The fire extinguished, leaving only deathly cold and a few glowing embers struggling to re-light the grey, burned and dead wood.

More freezing fog began to seep in through the windows, flooding the space and sinking to the floor as ice crystals slavered over the wood of the caravan.

The gypsy’s wooden chair squeaked as it rocked, and Buffy moved further back in her chair. “Don’t you know where you are? Don’t you know god is waiting for you to purge yourself of your sins before you’ll be allowed into heaven? Purify your soul and you can enter.” Buffy was trying not to scream as ice began to creep up her forearm.

“You have your answer, girl,” the gypsy said from the gloom, her chair seeming further away than it had a moment ago.

“Please, I beg you, he won’t believe the curse can be broken by him alone. I don’t have much time.” Buffy felt the pull of the real word as in real time the last of the sand began to filter away.

“You have your answer,” The gypsy repeated.

Buffy felt the pull of her own world, and held onto the arms of the chair, digging her nails into the frozen wood. “Please, I beg you, don’t do this!”

But it was too late, she was back outside in the fog, alone, and the caravan was gone.

~~~xxx~~~

Spike paced as the level of sand in the top of the timer grew lower and lower, only half an inch remaining. “Shit, Michael, you have to stop this now, she’s not back and she only has fucking minutes!”

The priest shook his head, pausing momentarily in his prayer to say, “She’ll return, we’re praying for her,” before he went back to what he was doing, his fingers flitting over his rosary.

“What bloody use is that? No use if she doesn’t come back in time. If she dies, I’m gonna rip your bloody head off!” Spike strode over to Buffy and began to shake her, “Sweetheart, come back to me, please!” he yelled. He could sense her heartrate slowing, parallel to the slowing of the sand within the vial. “I’ll do anything.” He sank to his knees beside the bed in tears. “Please don’t take her.”

~~~xxx~~~

A voice echoed all around her, calling her name. At first, she thought it was Spike, the English accent so familiar.

“Spike?” She called out, turning three hundred and sixty degrees and still seeing nothing.

“Buffy? William’s Buffy?” The voice resonated, sounding closer.

Buffy turned again and saw a pinkish illumination heading towards her at speed.

~~~xxx~~~

“You bring her back! Bring her back right now!” Spike shouted, dropping into game face without realising it. He clutched his head as his demon howled within.

The very last of the sand was filtering through the apex of the sand timer and he walked to the window, smashing his fist through and letting in a wailing wind, which whistled through the shattered glass.

The priest and the nun kept praying, prostrate beside the bed, each gripped one of Buffy’s hand and laid their heads upon it.

~~~xxx~~~

It was love. Buffy felt love and wondered if she’d run out of time in the real world and was now crossing over.

The pink light moved closer and a lantern came into view.

“It’s not too late to return, but you must leave now.” An older woman with blonde hair and a kindly face ran towards her, as quickly as her Victorian skirts would allow.

“W-what? Who are you?” Buffy asked suspiciously—things hadn’t turned out quite as she’d expected since she’d arrived.

“I’m Anne, Anne Pratt. William’s mother,” She said, taking hold of Buffy’s hand and pressing something cold and round into it, wrapping her fingers around Buffy.

“H-how, how can that be? Spike told me you were devout. You should’ve passed over?” she said breathlessly, a wrench almost pulling her away.

“We don’t have much time. You must tell William I have waited here all this time. I wanted to know he was happy, I wanted to know he’d found love and become the man he was meant to be, regardless of the evil which turned him. Buffy, you love him and I’m so very happy to meet you, dear, so happy.” Anne pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “Take this medallion to him along with this message. Tell him, the curse _will_ be broken if he resigns himself to his fate, and along with true love’s kiss he will have his soul and humanity returned. He must believe that, you must tell him his mother told you this and she will not pass over until he does as she tells him. Can’t you do that, sweetest one?”

“I will, but I don’t know if he will believe me,” Buffy said urgently, feeling the strain as she was heaved back several paces by an unknown force.

Anne ran the few steps back to her, taking the medallion from her palm and holding it up. “Place this in his hand, where his scar is. It will match, and he will believe you, I promise.”

Buffy stared at Anne, wanting to say so many things to the woman she’d never thought she’d meet, but she could hardly speak as tears ran down her cheeks.

“Buffy be happy, child. Make my William the man he was meant to be. You are perfect, exactly the woman I wanted for my son. Please give me grandchildren and make my son happy, that’s all I ask of you. Tell him I’ll always love him.”

“Thank you, Anne, and I pass his love to you.” She gripped Anne and pulled her tight. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

~~~xxx~~~

Spike could sense Buffy’s heartbeat slowing until it was beating only a few pulses a minute. He jumped onto the bed, straddling her legs and began CPR as Father Michael ran to his aid, checking that Buffy’s airway was clear as Spike pumped her chest.

“I told you this was a fucking stupid idea!” Spike bellowed, “Buffy? Buffy can you hear me?”

The sand timer fell to the floor, its upper chamber empty.

~~~xxx~~~

“Buffy? Buffy can you hear me?”

She lurched back to reality, coughing and holding her throat as she gasped for breath.

“Jesus H. Christ!” Spike shrieked, grabbing her and hugging her.

It took a moment for her to regain her breath and she allowed Father Michael to help her up to a sitting position.

Sister Mary disappeared, but returned with a wet washcloth and placed it on Buffy’s brow. “Oh, my dear, I’m so glad you returned to us.” She bent down to kiss her cheek before grasping her rosary and crossing herself, looking towards heaven.

Buffy accepted a sweet kiss from Spike as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“I thought you were a goner, baby,” he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

She took hold of his scarred hand and placed the medallion there, closing his fingers around it. “From your mom.”

He frowned when he opened his hand and stared at it. “My mum? I don’t get it, pet. What about the gypsy?”

“She was a lost cause.” Buffy reached out to Sister Mary Michael, taking hold of her lower arm. “I’m sorry. she seemed happy to remain where she was, and there was nothing I could do to persuade her to remove the curse or to move on.”

The nun gave Buffy a sad smile. “Not all of us are built to forgive, dear. I’ll pray for her.”

Father Michael stood and helped Sister Mary from her chair. “I’m sorry this didn’t work. I’m at a loss as to how to help you both, but I won’t stop working on it.”

Buffy thanked them again and let them leave—she wanted to talk to Spike about what had happened and she thought it might be more of a surprise to have Spike turn up in town later. That was, if what Anne had said worked.

~~~xxx~~~

Spike carried Buffy to his room and placed her in the bed, fussing over her like she was the queen.

He went to the kitchen to make her some chicken and stars, serving her a tray in bed with crackers, orange juice and the bottle of whiskey Father Michael had left.

“Hmm, I don’t really want whiskey right now, but thanks anyway.” She grinned.

“Err, that ain’t for you, kitten, that’s for me. If I had a heart, it would’ve stopped ten times over,” he said, taking the cap off and throwing back a large shot.

“You might wanna take it slow and listen to what I have to say.”

Buffy began her story about what had happened in purgatory, eating some of the soup before discarding the rest and patting the bed for Spike to climb in next to her as she got to what happened after she left the caravan.

“See this?” She took the token he was spinning through his fingers. “I wanted us to be alone before I told you about your mom.”

“I don’t understand, what about my mum?” He quirked an eyebrow and she felt the biggest rush of love for him.

“She was there, and she had a message for you.”

“What? She couldn’t be there, she was as religious as they come, no bloody way Saint Peter would’ve turned her away at the gate.” He scowled.

She scooted over so they were face to face, “She was there waiting for you. She told me you’d believe if I told you she was. She told me the full extent of the curse and how to break it.”

His cerulean eyes were filled with wonder. “How?”

“She said I needed to tell you this: the curse _will_ be broken if you resign yourself to your fate, and along with true loves kiss, you will have your soul and humanity returned. You must believe that. She told me I must tell you she told me this and she will not pass over until you do as she tells you.”

“Bloody stubborn woman. Though, I don’t understand? I always thought I’d be trapped here, that the curse couldn’t be broken.” He sat up and moved to the edge of the bed and placed his head in his hands. “How can I believe this? It sounds like codswallop. I want to, I love you and I trust you, but I can’t resign myself to this forever. Not without you!” A tear ran down his face.

Buffy pushed the covers back and rose to her knees, placing her hand on his shoulder and hugging his back. “I would never lie to you, but she said you’d say that, that’s why she gave me this.” She returned the medallion to his hand. “She told me to show you how it fits your scar exactly.”

Spike pressed the token onto his car and felt it fit precisely. He looked up and she saw the little boy he’d once been in his eyes as his lower lip wobbled. “This can’t be…it just can’t.”

She closed her fingers over his hand. “Do you trust me?”

He closed his eyes and nodded, his eyelashes flickering.

“She told me if you just believe, you will walk from this house if I kiss you.”

He was staring at the floor, she knew he was trying to take it all in.

Buffy got up from the bed and took his hand in hers. “Then what are we waiting for?”

~~~xxx~~~

He’d been trapped in the house so long he could hardly believe what he was being told. The fact alone that he might be able to walk outside tonight was one thing, but then Buffy had told him he would become human, he would regain his soul. It was almost too much to take in.

Buffy put on some pants and a sweater and led him to the lower floor.

Diablo let out a yip from behind them as they descended the staircase, and Buffy turned to him, sitting on a step and stroking his head. “Don’t be afraid, we’ll always take care of you, boy.”

The dog followed them to the front door as they walked over the planks, stopping when Spike did, just inside the porch, before sniffing the air and running outside.

Taking a deep breath, he began. “I can live here without Buffy, it’s just I choose not to live here without her,” he began. “I don’t need Buffy to live, I can survive without her, as I have during all the time I’ve been here. If she left me, I would carry on as I always have,” he announced, his voice seeming louder than ever as it echoed around the cavernous foyer.

She hovered behind him the whole time, waiting for him to finish, before he turned and took her in his arms. “You are my love, my only and forever love, Buffy. Now kiss me before I lose my nerve.”

Buffy jumped into his arms, kissing him like the world was about to end. He had to force himself to stop plundering her mouth as she let out a moan and wriggled against him.

He lowered her carefully to the ground, looking anxiously at the door. “You first, pet.”

Buffy stepped out into the moonlight, her hair gleaming, more beautiful than he’d ever seen it, and she held out her hand. “Please, Spike.”

It had been so long since he’d walked over this threshold, arm in arm with Dru, he’d almost forgotten what the night air felt like. He shuffled his feet before placing his left foot over the boundary which had imprisoned him for so long, shocked as it landed on the other side without obstruction. He followed suit with his right and heard a crunch of ice as he found himself outside the door, the chill night air nipping at his face.

“Fuck! Buffy, I’m outside, I’m really outside!” he yelled, frightening some birds, who scattered, their wings flapping loudly from a tree beside the house.

He felt suddenly unwell, like he’d been smacked hard in the face. _Oh, no! No, no, no!_ he thought, _I was almost there! It’s some sort of cosmic joke!_ His heart was racing, and he fell to the floor, feeling the cold through his fingers as they landed on the frost. His body began to fill with blood, his own blood, and it raced through his ears in crashing waves.

“Oh, god, Spike! Are you OK?” Buffy ran to his side.

“I don’t think I am,” he declared, his heart settling into a rhythm he’d long forgotten. He took hold of Buffy’s hand and placed it over his heart. “Feel this.”

Buffy was silent for a moment, before moving her head to his chest, listening for the beat he knew had begun just as he left the house. “Your heart! It’s beating!” she cried, throwing herself into his arms, “See, I told you! You just had to believe!”

“Thank you, kitten, I thought I was buggered for a minute there.” He rolled her over onto the ground below him, kissing her, and feeling his warm lips slide against hers.

“Can we walk? Can we just bloody walk until our feet fall off?” He jumped up, spinning with his arms held wide, “Can we watch the sun rise? Right up there.” He pointed to the craggy rocks overlooking the valley.

“We can do anything you want, baby, anything at all.” She took off running with a hoot, and he followed, soon outclassing her as they headed across the valley.

~~~xxx~~~

Buffy watched as her man rushed to the top, pausing only for a moment to smell the heather. He was released, and he was human. God, she never thought she’d ever feel his heartbeat. He was alive, just as his mother had promised he would be.

Grandchildren could wait, but she would do exactly as Anne had asked; she would help him become the man he should have been, she would love him always, and make him happy, but never, ever, would she make him step back inside that house.

Exhilarated, he watched the sun peek over the horizon, beginning its slow ascent and flooding the valley with a low light.

Spike sat on the ledge, one leg dangling over the edge and the other propped up, his arm balanced on his knee. Buffy joined him, and he put his arm around her. “I never thought this day would come. Thought I would dust before I ever left that house. But then you came, woke me from a half-life an’ made me feel alive, unlike any other. I don’t think I can ever repay you, princess.”

“Just love me, and make it count, Spike, that’s all I ask.”

“Gladly, and with all I have, my sweetheart, my bloody everything.”

He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin for the first time in one hundred years with his woman by his side. The cool wind rustled the abundant heather and its sweet-smelling scent filled his senses. This would take a lot of getting used to, but he was happier than he ever thought possible, and from this moment, he knew life would never be the same.


End file.
